All I Need To Get By
by Sleeping Dragons Die
Summary: Even if the Head of Unspeakables thinks he's insane, Draco Malfoy enjoys working at St Mungos. But when Operation Stonehenge goes horribly wrong and the best Unspeakable is brought in to his ward, life gets more interesting. Is he mature enough to get by
1. Default Chapter

All I need to get by

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Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me, nor do any of his little, warped chums and associations. They just happen to be addictive, it's not _my_ fault. 

Summary: Draco Malfoy owns half of Surrey, but isn't happy. He's happiest when enclosed within St Mungos; not clinically insane (although the Head of the Unspeakables thinks he is) but actually _helping_ people.  So when the newest Unspeakable operation goes horribly wrong and the best Unspeakable winds up on his ward, is he mature enough to change his mind about her? 

Default Chapter: _Operation Stonehenge_

         Agent 433 huddled closer to the material of her Unspeakable uniform, gripping her wand with tingling fingers. Over a London heath the heavey cover of gloom had fallen, rolled in London fog and blanketed in London not-quite-darkness. She was standing behind a Alder tree, a witch tree, heart quite still and steady although she moved her fingers nervously. Somewhere in the far distance a car horn sounded angrily, rising and falling in pitch as it passed the heath. The cement path running by her feet was flanked by short, morn grass; in the morning when all traces of the operation were removed several joggers would pound along it. Lights of all different hues gleamed in the gloom, some houses, some streetlights. A faint breeze carried the sound of music beats towards the area, and a scream of laughter drifted towards them. 

       Although there were some twenty Unspeakables posistioned around the park, 433 felt horribly alone. They had been talking about this for over a year; their one chance, the big one. Finally the capture of the newest dark powers that the Unspeakable departments in the whole of America and Africa had failed to destroy. And finally it had come, the telephone call from the American Ministry of Magic asking for the help of the British Secret Service, as 433 fondly referred to her work colleagues. 

       Quite suddenly, with a tiny pop, the entire atmosphere became magnetised. Twenty-two Unspeakables tensed and grasped their wands in calloused hands. Grim smiles spread over some faces, other brows furrowed in concentration. Agent 433 took a step out from under the Alder tree, hands shoved casually into her pockets. There was a sharp exclamation of breath, and the sound of someone turning too quickly on leaves. 433 swallowed smoothly, and stood still. 

"Who's there?"

         The voice that spoke failed to inspire the same terror that Voldemort had in the agent. It was too high and girlish, aggressive and not sly. 433 smirked under her hood, and held up her right hand in a gesture of peace. 

"Me," she said simply. 

        There was no movement for a moment, and 433 almost whooped in delight. Her carefully sculpted face remained passive under the hood however; even if the man couldn't see her, smiling made her feel vulnerable in an operation. Instead she grasped the thin chain of liquid magic flowing through her neurons and focused on the dim outline of the man's upper torso and head. _Legilimens_ she whispered in her mind, and waited for the connection to come. 

        Dim pictures flashed in her mind; first the inside of a tiny holding cell, a _shahib_ of magic somewhere, a little girl with wide blue eyes. 433 frowned – the girl was familiar. Suddenly to the right of them came another scream of laughter. 433 stiffened, and fought to untangle their minds. There was a _pop_ of apparation, and only the vague lingering of several blocks of crooked grey stone remained in her mind. 

         433 did not move, nor did she swear or blaspheme, she didn't grind her teeth or stamp her foot. Instead she raised her wand from inside her sleeve and prepared to apparate.

"Stonehenge!" she called, and vanished.

          Thornton Heath was filled with twenty two cracks, and left empty. On the other side of the heath a muggle girl in red stillhetoes and a mini skirt screamed in laughter again as she weaved drunkenly across the street with her boyfriend. 


	2. Agent 433

**All I need to get by**

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Chapter One: _Agent 433_

Stonehenge is located between two main roads in England, both of which pass by fairly close by to it. Fields surrounding the actual relic are covered in strange barrows, and it sits atop of small hill. Stonehenge itself is the most beautiful, overpowering, mystical place, and consists of a number of stone slabs placed on top of each other in a fairly circular rythym. It is a heathen place, where, it is siad, they once worshipped the sun, and so accordingly in old circles of Heathen ancestral families it goes by the name of the Sun-Stones.

Agent 433 was furious when she apparated to it. Just on the ridge of the other parallel hill lay the Unseen Stonehenge University, USU, where she had once studied. It was home ground to her. And yet she felt today as if it were the last place she would wish to be; this man they sought was well versed in all manner of ancient magic and no doubt he could twist the ancient stones to his bidding.

"_Stupefy_!" came a cry to her left, from beyond the largest archway, and she ducked.

The hum of magic sped past her shoulder as she realised that magic was amplified here – even that stunning spell could kill. The wand she was holding slipped over the tiny callouses on her fingers, and grazed a tiny wound on her thumb as she readjusted. She smiled grimly, pushing her hood firmly onto her head as she prepared to duel with the scum. There was no sign of the other aurors; they had returned to headquarters to fetch back up. Only _she_ had been idiotic to apparate straight after him, they would tell the Head of Unspeakables.

433 moved quickly and silently to a new post, below a fallen slab that could once have been an alter. She could see him, smell him; a mixture of cigarette smoke and sweat clung to him and prevaded the air around where he stood watching for her.

"_Petrificus Totalus_!" she cried, but he vanished behind a pillar and the spell fizzed into nothing.

There was silence while they both reviewed their spells. Stonehenge was blanketed in thick darkness; no lights gleamed here except the occassional scoop of car headlights, and the red of their backlights. Scrubby grass moved under her feet, and she smiled softly. In the distance she heard voices.

"Oh Unspeakable," came the high voice, "Where are you, Unspeakable? Scared are you?"

The female Unspeakable felt a cold surge of fury move up her legs, as if hundreds of ants were crawling up her. She breathed deeply and grasped the wand tighter, pulling a second from inside her boot as she did so. The second wand was not as light as the first, built of poisinous yew with a centre of veela hair as oppsed to flexiable willow with a core of dragon scales. It had been built by Ollivander for her after her first kill, ordained by the Head of department. The hair was of the veela she had killed – a jewel thief with a habit of killing wherever she went.

"_Gorgalus_!" she cried suddenly, rolling from her hiding place to another pillar.

"Ooooh, sneaky…" said the man, side stepping it neatly. "_Forniculus_!"

Suddenly, too suddenly, there were _pops_ coming from all around her; some muted, some louder depending on the power of the wizard or witch. 433 simply vanished, without the noise. Compared to the average witch or wizard these noises were tiny, a car exhaust back firing compared to a truck backfiring. None of the assembled Unspeakables spoke, merely circled Stonehenge. The little man they had been chasing began to sweat more. His mouth was dry, moist tongue licking his lips anxiously as he thoguht desperately.

"_Stupefy_!" roared 433, pointing both her wands at him. "_Serakus_!"

There was a scream of anger from the man. The _stupefy_ spell had reached him with the aid of _serakus_, a tracking spell opf which 433 was fond. He wobbled backwards a step, but remained upwards, his wards damaged but not gone.

"_Gergak_!" was cast back at 433, and the alter she had been lying behind upto a millisecond ago exploded, sending the whole thing up in a torrent of golden and red sparks.

It had been a sacraficial alter. Blood from the innocents sacrifices on it spilt from the skies; warm damp rain. The Unspeakables grimaced; from the other hill the faint sounds of several angry wizards were being emitted.

"_Forbus_!" cried 433, and the man dropped suddenly.

The Head of the Unspeakables moved forward, propped on a large staff, black robes swirling around him. Around the man a small crowd of black robed Unspeakables gathered. Agent 433 moved forward to meet the Head, tucking her wands into her pockets. The wind had picked up, and her hood was whistled from her head, revealing her face.

It was her first mistake on the job.

The little man leered, and focused on her head. He was a _shihab_, trained in India under a famous mage. Capable of malicous intent through thoughts, he only needed to focus on her for a few moments before she let out a scream that echoed through the countryside and collapsed into a smoking pile on the scrubby field.

♠

Draco Malfoy had collapsed into an overstuffed leather armchair exactly three minutes ago, his shoulders sagging as his buttocks made contact with the chair. The lumber support magically adjusted itself, and the chair began to heat up. Hands formed from the headrest and massaged his aching shoulders gently. He moaned a little bit and settled back further. On the side table was a steaming cup of something St Mungos had decided to call coffee, but was really more like dirt and water.

His uncalloused, smooth fingers rested on the armrests, by his feet lay four charts of magic capabilities, one rising far too fas, one dipping, one steady, the last falling drastically. Feet encased in black leather Italien shoes with laced up bust above his ankle rested on the white floor next to the charts. Underneath the red Healer robe he wore black slacks and a black shirt, unbuttoned at the collar.

"Healer Malfoy!" came a hollor suddenly, and he sat up quickly, collecting the charts in one fluid movement.

The receptionist, a fluffy blonde creature who smirked too often, had rushed into the office, her small face screwed up into an expression of fear. Behind her stood two Unspeakables, hoods up, but unifroms identifing them. Around them hovered an air of panic. Malfoy had seen too many during the long wars and after to forget what they looked like although an average wizard or witch would have no clue as to what they were.

"Malfoy," snapped one, hauling him up by the arm, "_Now_!"

Draco Malfoy was not used to being dragged along the corridors of St Mungos where he worked, on the top floor not normally included in the usual list of departments. Up in the converted attics of st Mungos was a department, staffed by Malfoy and two male nurses, for seriously damaged witches and wizards. These witches and wizards had often been exposed to huge amounts of malicous magic and their own magic was subsequently damaged, perhaps even their bodies as well.

"Healer Malfoy, there's been an emergancy!" explained the receptionist, scurrying alonside him like a small rodent, "an Unspeakable was exposed to something unidentified…"

"That is _enough_!" thundered the Unspeakable not dragging the Healer along.

"Healer Malfoy," came a dignified but concerned voice from the Unspeakable he was deposited in front of, one that he recognised as the Head of Unspeakables, "We have a situation you _must_ handle. Agent 433 was damaged in Operation Stonehenge, by a _Shihab_ who she had captured."

She was lying on the bed in the first room. Her black gossamer robes were ripped open to reveal a blue tinged body, every vein clearly visable. Her head lolled the her right hand side, delicate features making her pretty. Her brown eyes flickered in attempts to stay open, and her hair was matted with blood and spread out behind her. One arm was neatly folded on her torso across her stomach, the other hanging off the bed, blood dripping from the fingertips. The ends of her fingers were black. The entire body was shredded, deep gauges covered in dirt and sticking to the material of her unfiorm. Two wands lay on the bedside cabinet, a pair of boots abandoned by the bottom of her bed. A third regular Unspeakable was watching her worridly.

"She is my _best_ agent," said the Head next to him.

A weak smile filtered over the face of the girl lying there, rvealing straight white teeth. It lit up her entire face, and made the three Unspeakables in the room shift from one foot to the other and smile back at her. The Head of Operations patted her arm gently, and the Unspeakables retreated.

"Right," said Malfoy, and picked his crystal tipped wand up from his back pocket.

She was watching him through lidded eyes, and gave him another weaker smile.

"You'll blow your buttocks off like that," she murmered and closed her eyes.

Malfoy spun around from stabilizing her, hearing his least favourite auror's words spill from her lips. Mad-eye Moody was the only one to say that, and took delight in saying that to him every time he saw him, in a kind of gleeful tone that implied it wouldn't be _so_ bad to have Malfoy's buttocks blown off.

"I owe you twice over, Malfoy," she said softly when he bent over to attatch a tube to her nose in order to feed her potions.

Only one person had ever thought she owed him. The rest had assumed it was alright, him risking his life for theirs, because he had been a deatheater. And this one girl had thanked him and told him she owed him. He had given her a slightly incredulous look and returned to the long line of people waiting to be healed in the casualty tents of the Voldemort Wars.

"Granger?" he said, incredulous.

"Malfoy…" was her answer as she dropped into unconciousness.

♠

Author's Notes etc, etc:

_MadAboutHarry_ :- 'Tis good that you're intrigued, I hope you understand a bit more now. It is a default chapter so it was meant to be short – but it had to be the shortest thing I've ever written!

_Headmaster Cromwell_:- You're sorted out now. It was very complimentary, even more so when I read some of the strands in Salem. There is an application in your, erm, inbox (?) thingy.

_josephine:-_ I hope you're slightly more clear about what's going on now. Ta.

_In this chapter_ basically Operation Stonehenge (do I watch too much James Bond?) goes hideously wrong and agent 433 is subjected to a – well, I don't know, but is severly injured. 433 is rushed to St Mungo's by her colleagues where a secret top floor exists for critically damaged witches and wizards, normally aurors or Unspeakables. There we discover Draco Malfoy, who's the best Healer St Mungo's has. He recognises 433 as Hermione Granger because they both study under Mad Eye Moody and a small, slightly random comment that will later become valuable.

Right, now I want you to move your little mouse pointers over to the left hand side of your screen, and when they stop moving go down to the bottom. Move across to the end of the little bar on the menu bar that says something like 'Fancfiction.Net Story : All I …' and go up for approximately three centimetres or one inch, and then across a tiny little bit. Click. Write your name in the 'Name:' box, and write me a review please!

_Please note initial disclaimer applies throughout_.


	3. The Top Floor

All I need to get by

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Chapter Two: _The Top Floor_

          Hermione Granger had never felt so sore and tired in her life. That was saying something because her life had been one where waking up hurt and aching was the norm – first the Hogwarts years with their adventures and too much studying; then the years at USU (Unseen Stonehenge University) subjected to Mad eye Moody's erratic teaching methods, and then the Head of the unspeakable's vigorous training; followed by the Voldemort Wars where she had been injured, gone out again, been injured, gone out again, almost died, gone out again and then gone home; and of course the numerous operations at the Unspeakable Department.

         Her entire body was too stiff to move, and the automatic curling of her fingers was met with no response, not even shooting pain. They simply didn't move, but Hermione chose to ignore that. Moving her toes cautiously met with a stabbing pain through her back, and rolling her head left a kind of dull ache that reverberated around her head like an annoying summer tune. She could feel her hair beneath her head, and saw it when she rolled her head over.

        She was covered in cotton sheets which rubbed painfully against tender skin like a nail-file, and her mouth was completely dry. Her eyes hurt because of the sunlight which was seeping in through thick blinds. Her throat was coated in superglue, she discovered trying to speak to herself as was her normal habit to encourage herself. Her lips seemed oddly swolled and dry, and her eyelids were too heavy.

"_Scourgify_," said a soft male voice from the doorway, the the feeling of sleep was removed. "How do you feel?"

        The owner of the voice moved forwards into the light, and revealed itself to be a Healer in red robes whom Hermione recognised as Draco Malfoy. His blond hair was tied back with a black band, but a bang hung forward in his face, curling slightly at the end. His face was still angular and defined, but the mouth was softer and the frown lines soothed over.

         Draco Malfoy watched in professional concern as his patient opened her mouth a few times, a baffled look crossing her face, and then sighed petulantly. The Healer took a quill from his pocket and scribbled this newest discovery down on a form at the bottom of her bed. He had to admit, without the blood everywhere, Granger had grown up. Her face had lost every trace of babyishness, and taken on a more mature, calm look. Her curly hair was slightly more manageable, but not enough to be called sleek and flat. It sprang in wayward loops from her head every which-way, but her eyes had darkened even if her skin remained pale.

"Can't you talk?" he asked calmly, moving closer to the bed.

         Hermione shook her head no, accepting that she needed his expertise. Although she had had no time to think about accepting his help, years of travelling the world and a friendship with Blaise Zabini, an auror, had taught her to accept others and to know when they had grown up.

"Right," said Malfoy, opening the blinds, "You're on the Top Floor of St. Mungos, and I'm your healer. You're one of five patients with myself and two nurses looking after you."

         Hermione watched him with perfectly calm eyes fom the bed, knowing everything he said was true. He had no reason to lie to her, and she could smell it if he did, even if he was a Slytherin. He had moved over to her bedside cabinet to examine the wands lying there and pour some green potion down her throat tube. She wanted to cough as the cool liquid touched the back of her guller, but found it rather comforting. 

"Go back to sleep," he said at last, moving towards the door, "I'll be back this afternoon."

Χψως

       Hermione was woken up three mornings later by slightly lowered voices outside her door, one of which she recognised as Malfoy's, the other familiar to her as well, not that she could place it though. She was propped up on three pillows and lumber support, the bed responding to her wishes even as she woke up. Automatic charms cleaned her and changed her pretty white teddy to a black one. Ginny Potter had sent them over yesterday when she heard the news from Harry, although so far Hermione had had no visitors. She knew the light outside her door would be glowing white at this precise moment, signifying that she was awake.

"Do you actually know what's wrong with her?" asked the unidentified voice in soft, sibilant tones.

"No," that was Malfoy, snappish and annoyed, "If I did I would respond to the fifteen howlers that Weasley and Potter have sent me so far."

"Look Draco, there's no point trying to fob me off you know. All I'm doing is being messanger boy from just about everyone. Including professor Snape…"

"Snape?" Malfoy sounded urgent, the tone of the conversation moving from friendly to professional, "Has he sent it over?"

"Yes, here."

         There was a clink of glass and the bubble of liquid being moved quickly, and an almost sight of relief from the healer.

"She's awake," said unidentified, "She can probably hear us."

"Don't be a fool," answered Malfoy, "That door's solid walnut – even I can't hear through it."

"Heightened senses."

"If she had heightened senses she would be screaming in pain. That's extensive damage to almost every nerve in her body lying in there."

"Malfoy you prat, she's an unspeakable."

        Hermione chewed her lip anxiously, a nervous habit picked up from Ron Weasley. The cotton sheets were digging into her skin as if someone had laid shovels across her body, and the pillow felt like a neck brace against her back. Several wounds across her body kept re-opening and bleeding when she shifted uncomfortably. But what irked her most was the loss of her voice. She desperately wanted to tell Malfoy she trusted him – disliked him but trusted him – because she could smell the wariness with which he was moving around her and it was driving her insane.

      She was slightly distracted by the arrival of Malfoy in her room, holding a small blue vile in his pale hand. His red robe was open revealing the usual black ensemble, but his hair looked as if he had been running his hands through it again and again. Behind him followed another man, dressed in the grey robes of an auror, with dark hair and brown eyes and a petulant, spoilt smile on his face. Blaise Zabini.

      Malfoy ignored her almost completely while he tipped the blue potion into the tube which ran down her throat and into her stomach. She watched it bubbling along the tube apprehensively.

       Even Malfoy was surprised at the level of scream which sounded through the room. It was as if thousands of muggle bullets were being shot into her throat – short, stabbing pain that grew into one long ribbon of agony spiralling from her voice box. Every feeling was sucked out of her as she screamed, only concentrating on the pain that consumed her. In the reception the blonde witch dropped her cup of pumpkin juice over three files; over the waiting rooms small children burst into horrified tears while their mothers sat in frozen silence. Two Healers misjudged spells on the A&E floor and a wizard ended up with hemerroids on his head and an enlarged foot. Blaise Zabini clapped his hands to his ears and screwed his face up comically. Malfoy blinked twice.

"Granger!" he shouted, "Be quiet!"

         It was the only thing that Hermione was aware of, and it worked. The scream died down into a gasping, choking sob that wrneched his heart more than the scream had. He filed that unwanted reaction to the back of his head, and reminded himself quite firmly that she had been a pain at school. Hermione carried on crying, head flung back and whole body on fire.

"Granger, as sympathetic as I am," Malfoy drawled sarcastically, "Can you speak?"

"You insufferable git!" came the muffled reply as Hermione turned over and buried her head in her pillow, "_Out_! Get _Out_!"

Χψως

"That was abysmal," said Blaise Zabini as the two Slytherins retreated from the room, "Totally unacceptable. What were you playing at?"

        Draco Malfoy turned to his angry friend and sneered. Zabini was scowling, two bright spots of colour of his tanned skin. His arms were folded across his robes. Draco stuffed his hands into his pockets and let out a short bark of laughter.

"She's a mudblood Blaise. Who cares?"

"I care!" thundered his companion angrily, "She's my friend, and so are you! I thought you'd grown out of hating mudbloods years ago! Maybe next time I see you you'll tell me what _daddy_ says about her!"

"Low blow, Zabini, low blow," snapped Malfoy.

"No lower than you! Sometimes I wonder why people say you're the best Healer in St Mungos – you weren't exactly professional in there."

         Blaise got no answer from Draco. He had moved across to the filing cabinet standing in the hallway, and picked up a file bound in black leather. Slim fingers like batons flicked the pages slowly, grey eyes absorbed in the parchment covered in neat italic writing – his own. The auror glared at the back of his head and Malfoy could feel the gaze boring into him like a three inch drill with no aneasthetic.

'Fine!' Malfoy spun around on one foot so rapidly the file he was holding crashed to his feet, 'I don't know what's wrong with her! Happy?'

'Well ask her then! Instead of being an infant with a sore head! If you can get her to speak to you again that is…'

'Oh shut _up_ Zabini!' bellowed his friend, and slammed his fist into the filing cabinet.

            The five drawers shot open and a shower of snow like paper flew out all over the corridor, lying thickly on the floor and over Malfoy's head and shoulders, like A4 sized dandruff. While Malfoy cursed like an extrememly experienced member of the Royal Navey completely drunk, Blaise lent down discreetly and took a page of parchment off the floor. He left the whole floor in uproar almost silently, leaving the scene of the paper Malfoy behind him as he passed Hermione's door where her sobs were clearly heard, and slipping past the duty nurses.

Author's Note and stuff:

_Liz Unfair_:- Thankyou! And seeing how you gave me such a cute little thingy at the end of the review, here's another chapter!

_MadAboutHarry:-_ I think that's the first cliff hanger I've ever written actually. I should write more, they get faster reviews! Okay, basically H's an Unspeakable, the best in the business, and she gets injured in Operation Stonehenge (which isn't over by the way), carted off to St Mungo's where D's dozing off, and, hopefully, rescued.

_Sweet jane_:- I think I'm going to cry! You said I had unique plots! Thankyou! hiccup . 

_In this chapter_ Hermione wakes up in the Top Floor in St Mungo's which is for witches and wizards suffering from extreme, magical ability suffering curses etc. She cannot move her fingers. Blaise Zabini arrives (look, sorry, I couldn't use anyone else like Nott because he does something else later on, so deal with a male Blaise Zabini. By the way, does anyone feel J.K Rowling has forgotten Blaise?) with a potion from Professor Snape (are we having a Slytherin dominated story? Well, yeah) which kind of really seriously hurts Hermione. Draco is most unsympathetic because he doesn't know why his stomach is line dancing with his heart, and Hermione chucks him out. Blaise Zabini has a go at him, and steals an Important Document (note the caps). Woops. The Top Floor is left in complete chaos.  Wahey!


	4. Diagnosis Potter

**All I need to get by**

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Chapter Three: _Diagnosis Potter_

_Potter,_

_Draco doesn't know what's wrong with Hermione – and only the Unspeakables __do know what actually happened to her, so don't think you can help. Just lay __off him alright? He seemed rather upset last time I saw him, but Snape has man __aged to create a potion to mend her voice box, so if she'll speak to him he might __have a better clue._

_Zabini_

The short note arrived in a crabbed handwriting at number eight Bawntree Close carried by what appeared to be a _bubu bubu_ Eurasion Eagle Owl and a pygmy owl cross. It entertained Ginny Potter, who thought it was very adorable and fed it strips of crispy bacon that were meant to be her husband's breakfast while said husband scanned the note and cursed loudly. Ginny rolled her eyes and gave the small owl with the regal air and grey feathers some scrambled eggs as well. It looked very smug when Harry realised his breakfast was being fed to it.

'They do say animals begin to act like their owners…' he muttured rather angrily.

'Which explains why your pet snake is always trying to slither down my blouse,' Ginny said snappishly back, in staunch defence of the bird.

Harry went slightly pink, the glow spreading along his cheekbones rapidly. He read the letter again, suddenly becoming very interested in the way Blaise shaped his Ts like small rodent prints while his wife cleared the table, humming under her breath as the owl fluttered off to find it's owner.

'Malfoy doesn't know what's wrong with Hermione.'

'Which means we're still not allowed to visit?'

'Yes. Apparantly she's got her voice back though so we could send her some Quick Quotes Quills – reliable ones – and parchment and she could dictate to them.'

'Floo Ron and tell him.'

'Maybe Lavender'll feed me,' said Harry grumpily, leaning down by the fireplace.

♠

'For the _final_ time,' Draco leaned in closer to the fireplace in the lounge area where he worked, 'You _cannot_ come and see her _Weasley_.'

'Oh come _on_!' snapped Ron angrily, 'What's the harm?'

Draco Malfoy made no reply to the rapidly turning purple head in his fire place, only picked up a bucket of sand which sat by the fireplace and tipped it onto the emerald flames. There was a _phump_ from the fire, the sound of Ron's mild blasphemy and then silence in the office. Potter had stopped sending howlers since Patient 433 (as Zabini referred to her) had begun a dictated diary of each day and constant reassurances, but Weasley carried on with the daily floo calls much to the Healer's annoyance.

The Healer had almost reached the end of his teather. Two weeks had passed since the Unspeakables had carried their best agent up to him; two weeks of futile research and heinous anger between Healer and patient. He sank his head very slowly onto his splayed hands and read the notes again through pale fingers. There was complete silence in the room while Malfoy persued the volume of neat scribbles.

'Urm, Healer Draco?'

Draco looked up quickly to see one of his nurses standing in the doorway; a shy, tanned man of around twenty-two, recently graduated from the Unseen Stonehenge University with a Magical Degree (MD) in Nursing, but rather uncertain around Malfoy. He was ringing his hands together like a pair of ferrets twisting in a fight, his brow knitted together in perpetual confusion.

'Auror Zabini has arrived, sir, with professor S-Snape.'

'Severus?' asked Draco in confusion, 'Where are they?'

'They're with agent 433, sir.'

'_WHAT_?' he bellowed, 'GET THEM _OUT_ OF THERE!'

'Yessir! Yessir!'

As the young nurse scrambeled from the room, Draco fumed. His hand closed around a small china ornament; a chinese dragon his mother had brought him some years ago, and it hit the wall with a loud smacking sounds and bounced several times. He left it at the base of the wall and abandoned his research in favour of the closest room which happened to hold his friend, godfather and patient.

The patient in question was sitting in bed talking rather animatedly about what an utter prig he was, and how, once she regained feeling in her hands, she would like to throttle him and feed him his own male appendages. Zabini was sitting on the end of the bed, sniggering, and Severus Snape was flicking over her charts with a frown on his face, listening with half an ear and an amused smirk tugging his lips. The nurse, Barab, was lingering by the doorway taking deep breaths and giving terrified glances in the direction of his previous potions professor.

'Godfather, _Zabini_, what a pleasure to see you again,' Draco forced out through gritted teeth, and the flow of how Granger would cut off his balls stopped.

'Good morning Draco,' greeted the slightly-insufferable Blaise, 'Sleep well last night?'

'Zabini, watch your tongue,' rebuked Snape, 'Hello Draco.'

'What are you doing here?' Draco spoke very quietly, a dangerously aggressive tone prevading his voice.

'Hermione!' came an overjoyed voice from the doorway.

'Ron!' shrieked the girl in the bed, and then screamed when the youngest male Weasley bounded forward and seized her in a hug.

'OUT!' bellowed the Healer standing in the midst of the turmoil, '_OUT_! _ALL_ OF YOU!'

Hermione collapsed backwards onto the pillows, the bed edges bending upwards to cacoon her in a safe little nest. Her breathing was ragged and violent, great gasping breathes and tiny ones coupled together to stop her screaming again. Her upper torso felt as if she was surrounded by sandpaper rubbing against her skin harshly. She was not even aware of the hasty leaving of the four men standing in her room, nor of Draco threatening to have Weasley and Zabini arrested for breaking and entering, or of his muttered wishes to have Snape remain in his office until he could discuss her with his godfather.

She was only aware of the cool light touches of someone's fingers as they spread healing over her, how she didn't know, but she was grateful and her skin melted inwards to his touch as the pain receeded. Two fingers were pressed to her temples as if soothing a headache and she fell into a sleep as comfortable as any she had had before Operation Stonehenge.

♠

'Help me Severus,' was all Draco could say as he collapsed into a leather armchair opposite his godfather, who was perched on the edge of his desk with an enormous stack of papers on his knees and three small vials.

'You gave her your healing magic.'

'Yes,' moaned the young man, 'I don't even know why!'

'Because you are a good healer, Draco, and she is in a lot of pain.'

'It's the only thing that seems to soothe her, godfather, nothing else I do works. She won't even speak to me!'

'You are harsh towards her,' observed Severus, shifting the paper, 'Like you were harsh towards her in your last year at Hogwarts. She has changed for the better, matured into an excellent lady, but somehow when you're around her your own maturity slips into nothing.'

Draco made no reply, thinking about what his mentor and closest friend had said. It was true, she had grown up. She made no move to hinder his work, or call him names when he was around. When she had been brought in she had not objected to the choice of Healer. But that was not what confused him. He found her beautiful. When she smiled – not often at him admittedly – her entire face lit up with an enthusiasm he had never seen anywhere else. She gave off an entire aura of relaxation; a kind of drowsy calmness which made him peaceful.

'I have something for you,' Severus's voice snapped him out of the thoughts, 'Something Zabini picked up when he was last here.'

Draco reached out for the offered paper, and his face went pale. It was on official Unspeakable paper, with a crossed knife and wand heading the top of the paper. A messy scrawl that was all too familiar to Draco covered it, and it was signed by the Head Unspeakable. Written on the parchment was a blow by blow account of Operation Stonehenge, and agent 433's part in it – including the spells used that night. __

'How did Zabini get this?' hollored Draco, waving the parchment around furiously.

'I believe he picked it up from the floor during the delivery of the first potion,' Snape scowled, 'That boy is insufferable sometimes.'

'Severus, you have to speak to her! She won't even exchange pleasentries with me!'

'Try apologising to her,' suggested his godfather, 'It worked for me. Meanwhile I have a third year class to teach.'

'Fine! Abandon me!'

'You sound like a two year old,' snapped Snape as the emerald flames whisked him away to Hogwarts.

Draco slammed his fist down on the table in a fit of rage.

Little Blabbing Area:

_Icewater_:- Thankyou! I hope you do enjoy it, your review was lovely. And thankyou for adding it to your favourite stories list!

_Sneezy Mouse_:- Weeeeeeeeh! Okay, that was so cool! Thanks for the review – I'm glad you think it's unique! All I need to get by is actually a line from a poem, so as a direct quote it shouldn't have capitals in it, but I'll change it anyhoo.

_Midnight solitaire_:- That's a pretty cool name you have. I'll see what I can do, seeing as how you asked so nicely. By-the-by monks _can't_ marry – they have to take vows of celibacy, and abstain from sexual lust etc, and 'the joys of a woman'. Bit boring eh?

_MadAboutHarry:-_ I think Zabini's just Zabini. He's not a goody-goody like Harry, but he's not evil, or even bad. Mildly Naughty? Curious? I _think_ Ginny's sending her a teddy because she's possibly hoping that Hermione gets together with _anyone_ really. Alternatively, her _hormones_ may be imbalanced and thus her practicality impeded…

_Special Delivery Chapter!_

_In this chapter_ Harry gets his breakfast eaten by Blaise Zabini's owl, and floos Ron Weasley telling them that H's voice has returned (which obviously we already knew). Ron gets a bucket of sand dumped on his head by an irate Draco who has no idea what spells were used, and thus no idea what is wrong with H. Snape and Zabini come visiting and H tells them what she would kill to do, sorry maim, with D. D is a _leetle_ bit upset when Ron arrives despite having his head extinguished, and orders them out. He gives a bit of his healing magic to H and she goes to la la land. Snape and D have discussion, and D admits, in text only, that he finds H a leetle bit attractive. Snape calls D a two year old and demands an apology for H (who isn't speaking to D).


	5. Tangled Spells

**All I need to get by**

****

Chapter Four: _Tangled Spells_

Hermione Granger was staring out of her window when Draco Malfoy finally plucked up enough courage to apologise to her. The London street below was filled with Saturday morning shoppers, all toting large bags around behind them. They spared little time for the dusty old store which presented a front for St Mungo's Hospital, passing across to the large Marks&Spencers opposite to buy whatever they needed to survive in a world without magic. Her eyes were glassy and blank, and the bed was propping her up almost vertically. Her hair was brushed and plaited by one of the nurses with the aid of magic. Her own wands still lay on the bedside table.

'Granger?'

She turned towards him slowly, and for the first time he appreciated how much effort it took for her to move – every muscle in her body was momentarily tense and rippled beneath the surface of her skin. The movements were not fluid as usual, but disjointed, and her tongue was clenched beneath her front teeth. She raised an eyebrow at him in question.

'I've been an utter prat,' he began, lodging himself against the edge of the doorpost, 'I know that. I apologize.'

There was complete silence in the room for a while, and then Granger's face realxed into a kind of half smile. Draco awkwardly smirked back at her.

'You could make it up to me,' she suggested quietly, so that he had to move forward into the room to hear her properly, 'Please stop being so tense and anxious. I can sense it.'

She followed this statement with another small smile, encouraging this time. Draco nodded in understanding and moved closer until he was sitting on the end of her bed. Her hands lay limp by her side, finger tips gently tinged with blue, every tendon and muscle could be seen beneath the skin. He frowned at them, and took the right one in his hands, examining it while she watched him.

'Can you still not move them?' he asked suddenly, bending one finger back.

'No.'

He began to run his cool fingers over her hands, up and down her fingers in soothing circles, dipping down to her wrist and then massaging the palm. All the while Hermione watched in a kind of detatched interest, afraid to say anything in case it shattered the calm acceptance in the room.

'They don't hurt or anything though,' she assured him softly, 'Just hang there as if I had no bones.'

'I have to confess,' he said at last, 'I am not entirely sure what is wrong with them. The only thing I can think of is the Shahib's curse.'

'_You'll_ work it out.'

There was silence again as Draco felt a curious sort of molten liquid spiral up from his stomach into his chest, and Hermione smiled at him.

♠

She looked distinctly lethargic, noted Healer Malfoy some weeks later. Hermione had once again been moved, with the aid of magic and a nurse, to the chaise lounge which lay be the large window. Every movement was an effort, and the movement from the bed to the chaise could take up her energy for half a day. Her muscles were taunt beneath her skin as she breathed deeply and shifted a little. Her skin was milky pale, with a slight blue tinge. Exhausted lines became carved into her skin around her red-rimmed eyes and temples. The books she read, and the newspapers and magazines, were less prone to the pages being turned as she gazed into the distance.

She was convinced that he would find a cure for her – she trusted him because she had no others to trust with her life. Potter and Weasley arrived almost every other day and animated her, but the Healer heard her crying into her pillows after these visits. Those who had saved her before couldn't save her this time she knew, no matter how much they assured her that they were researching spells and charms in their free time. Unspeakables dressed in black robes visited her and talked of missions and operations – how much they missed her, how even the Head was becoming fidgety closer to operations without his top Unspeakable. She laughed and let them hold her close to them.

'Hello Draco,' she said at last, not looking up from the window,

'Severus has arrived,' Draco swallowed his nervousness, 'He thinks he's found something.'

She looked around so suddenly that her neck muscles groaned in protet and the bones clicked against each other. Her eyes brightened and a smile formed on her lipes almost instantly. Severus Snape loomed into the room in a most menacing manner, which, apparantly, Hermione found rather amusing and had to stifle her laughter on a purple silk cushion which Ginny Potter had brought for her yesterday. In a small box padded with cotton wool and unbreakable charms lay a tiny vial of aubergine coloured liquid that shimmered like blood.

'What's actually in it?' asked Draco rather suspicously.

'I used all of your notes and theories. Actually it's your potion, all I did was make it.'

There was no contribution to the conversation from Hermione. Her eyes were fluttering desperately as her fingers stroked the smooth glass, warm beneath her digits. Draco glanced at her in concern, his stomach lining unpeeling itself from his insides and twisting itself into dozens of tiny knots that made him want to choke. Severus watched her in silent contemplation, and then bent down next to the chaise, eyes darkening in concern.

'There's something wrong, Draco,' he said at last, 'She needs your _barthar_, your healing magic.'

Draco didn't hesitate for longer than thirty seconds. He dropped to his knees by the silk chaise and placed his cold hands on her neck, fingers neatly arranged around her lower face. Her head dropped back onto the silken cushions as she choked on tears. His fingers pressed into her skin and moved, rotating slightly in a soothing manner. Underneath his digits the skin went white and spread in neat areas like paint across her neck. She was gasping and sobbing by the time he whispered her name and the flesh began to cool.

'Hermione,' he whispered softly, and the magic began flowing out of him in great waves, 'Hermione? Come on Hermione, please.'

Quite suddenly she went limp under his hands and fell back to the chaise, one arm falling off it to trail down Draco's chest and onto the floor. Every muscle relaxed as she slept deeply, soothed and comforted by his voice, relaxed by his magic. Draco sat down on the cold floor and dropped backwards in exhaustion.

Draco barely noticed when Severus carried Hermione across to the bed and laid her down on it, but he noticed when Severus bent down to haul him to his feet, and with the aid of his godfather stood upright. His chest was constricting painfully, icy fingers clutching at his heart, his magic weakened, but fast replenishing. Even as he stood magic flooded back into his body.

'Draco,' came a weak moan from behind them, and Draco turned.

Hermione's eyes were open, unsteadily flickering eyelids from under which dark eyes watched him. He took a few steady steps towards her until he was looming over her.

'I told you _you'd_ cure me…the potion…thank you,' she forced the words out and collapsed into sleep again, her breathing shallow, a smile tugging at her lips.

Draco stood and watched her for a moment, and then ran his fingers across her forehead to move the stray brown curls that lay there. Fluidly, seeming to forget his godfather who had left the room some seconds previously, he bent down and pressed his rose lips to her skin just above her nose. He didn't smile, because it wasn't something he often did, but his throat constricted with sudden dry tears.

He left the room silently, left hand in the pocket of his red healer robes, and found Severus waiting for him. The older man offered him a gentle smirk, and they walked in silence towards the office.

The next day Hermione was fed the potion.

Five days later she was released from St Mungo's.

**To Be Continued**

My talking Slot:

_Arbitrary_:- Thankyou so much!Well, here's _'more'_

_MadAboutHarry_:- I'm sure Ron thought having his head extinguished was nothing. And Snape had to talk some kind-of-sense into Draco, but you're right, not much happened. I don't like to rush things. You owe me a chcocolate frog for getting this up so soon!

_regina-terrae_:- Mischevious perhaps? Thankyou! Right, basically she was injured in the Voldemort Wars and he saved her life. You know you sent me like 4 reviews? That was cool. But I thought he would be a Healer because I just couldn't see him running around or anything like that. I thought if he was a Healer he could just walk in a brisk manner, and get to wear red!

_Tracy3_:- Does that mean you like it? Thanks!

_Athena Linborn_:- Oh, I don't mind being told you like my story twice! Here's you _asap_ update!

_Next chapte_r is really seriously long (for me) and another Slytherin pops up. Guess who?

Anyway, _this chapter_ D apologises (did you note he didn't actually say sorry?) and H accepts graciously. Her hands are still completely lifeless, but she makes D all warm and fuzzy (in a Slytherin kind of way) by telling him she trusts him. How mature. Snape turns up again with a vial that will replenish her magical strength, and Hermione lapses into almost-death. D uses his barthar, which is a kind of healing magic which only has limited use, and only works if there is a patient/healer bond of any kind (e.g. Harry could use it on Ron, and Ron could use it on Neville Longbottom – it doesn't have to be love) and brings her back form the endge of death. Strong bond this signifies (just been watching Yoda), and we H is dismissed.

**ATTENTION PLEASE** I know a lot of you will be thinking that is a very auspicous ending, but basically it was through Draco, and he's upset and angry, and doesn't want to think about it, which is why it's really odd. She's just walked out of his life, so I reflected that by just walking out of the chapter. **IT ISN'T THE END!**


	6. Veil Beyond Death

**All I need to get by**

****

Chapter Five: _Veil beyond death_

The room which stemmed from the revolving drum was rather full. Although it was around the size of Hogwarts library, with a mezzanine floor used for relaxation, and although there were only around fifty Unspeakables dressed in black gossamor uniforms, the table they were sitting around was tight and hot. The room itself was divided into three, according to the floors. The first floor was entirely taken over with a library, plaaning kind of area, with twenty-six shared desks overflowing with parchment, thousands of books and neatly recorded records of operations, large posters of various locations, a map similar to the mauraders map, but charmed for the whole of Britain upon voice command, and thick rugs. The top level was a training area, with large squashy floors, hundreds of boggarts to train with, and cubby holes filled with training gear. The mezzanine floor was an area for relaxation; coffee machines, little tables, large over stuffed sofas and tread marks in the white carpet.

Agent 433 was sitting on an over-stuffed, purple chintz chair with her feet, shod in expensive dragon hide boots, splayed out before her. Zacharias was sitting next to her on a leather chair with his head on her shoulder, apparantly fast asleep. In her fingers lay a chain which normally hung around her neck, with a tiny, shrunk aubergine vial, half full of a potion which she had to keep applying to her hands every day. It was hanging from the silver chain looped between her thumb and index finger while she watched a point just in front of it in a dazed manner.

'You OK Hermione?' asked Zacharias at last, watching as the vial slipped along the chain.

'Huh? Oh, yeah.'

'Alert and ready for action I see,' he ribbed.

'Mmmmh.'

'Thinking about the lovely Malfoy are we?'

With this comment Hermione snapped out of her reverie, tucked the chain and potion tightly beneath her black shirt, and glared at him, crossing it with an air of indifference that made her look somewhat like a blast-ended skrewt attempting to be innocent. Zachasias Smith, who had been a Ravenclaw in Hogwarts a year ahead of his friend, grinned and poked her shoulder affectionately.

'No!' she exclaimed, rather too loudly, 'Why would I?'

'Oh come off it, girl, I know you fancy the pants off him.'

'I do not!'

'**433**!' came a suden, loud bellow.

Standing at the oval entrance to the Unspeakable Operations Department was the hief of the Unspeakables, dressed in black robes and a black cloak, arms folded across his elderly chest as he bellowed for his best agent. Hermione swept up her wands and dropped them down her sleeves for easy access, pulled on her cloak and slipped the fastenings of her boots up within seconds. She skittered along the hall at full speed, and pulled the hood up around her face as she came to a halt in front of him.

'Sir!'

'433, I need you to go to St Mungo's. Operation Stonehenge has claimed another one of my Unspeakables, floor four. Agent 278. You're the only one avaidable for the job. I need a detailed annalysis of what's wrong with him for the records, estimated recovery time, see if he can remember anything, if not modify his memory as to his being an Unspeakable. We believe that a dark wizard has infiltrated his brain waves – a necromancer. He works in the department of the Veil.'

'Yessir.'

Hermione took a few moments to do her long gossamor cloak up fully, and slip the hood more securely around her face, until she was plunged into shadow. Her wands were secure in the holsters attatched to her wrists, and she could feel the cold vial against her collarbone. Loping out of the department, she entered the golden lift silently.

The only other occupant was an auror carrying a muggle firearm of some kind, what looked like a semi-automatic machine gun. Four memos swooped around the light so that it flickered over the golden cage. It was silent in the lift as it rose up two levels to the attrium.

♠

St Mungo's was loud, steamy and smelt of freschia due to a witch who was sprouting the flowers all over her body so that she looked like a large bush. Hermione tugged the cloak more tightly around her face, and glided towards the reception. Harassed looking orange and red robed healers rushed past with their crystal tipped wand out, and regular wands tucked behind ears. A small child of around three screamed as the broomstick which was stuck up his nose hit a coffee table. A wizard hiding behind a copy of Witch Weekly attempted to subdue the blonde curls which were springing from his head, and squash the breast which were growing from his formerly male chest.

In front of her a mother tugged at the arm of her youngest child who appeared to have been squashed by a magical spell because he kept wheezing accordian like sounds out of his strangely square mouth. Behing him an elder brother looked guilty. Hermione stood patiently and calmly in the qeue. Finally Hermione reached the platinum blonde, bored looking witch who was on reception duty.

'Spell damage third floor,' she said, her mouth full of chewing gum.

'I need a pass,' said Hermione, in a quietly authorative voice, 'for floor four. I have memory modification to do.'

''Ere, you can't do that!' cried the witch loudly, 'No memory modification unless approved by the ministry of magic!'

'Just do it please.'

'Yew must be mad!' the platinum blonde shook her head firmly.

'No, but I'm very dangerous. Department of Mysteries.'

'Oh,' the witch deflated slightly, 'go on then.'

She pushed a small yellow pass towards Hermione, who signed it, and stamped it with a signet ring she had on her left ring finger. 433 moved away from the desk and entered the red elevator, punching in flour four on the buttons.

Floor four was rather calm considering the hustle and bustle going on beneath her. The ward stretched in front of her byond the reception area which was empty, but Hermione ignored it and walked along to the second ward, which was labelled in silver on the door as '_mar Thagalat Ward'_ (who had invented the counter-jinx shortly after the development of the counter-curse) and hadwritten underneath '_Healer in Charge: Marion Fergus and Specialist Mediwizard Theodore Nott'_. Nott came stalking out angrily as soon as she pushed the door open; a thin, disagreeable looking man just as he had been in school, but apparantly gifted with his patients.

'This is a private ward. You have to have a specialist pass to get in here.'

Hermione made no reply only showed him the scrap of yellow paper. Nott scowled, and then peered at the memory modification scrawled on the bottom.

'Memory modification! You can't do that!'

He was ignored as she moved for the bed furthest along the ward, recognising 278's distinctive smell; a mixture of old tobacco and alcohol that wafted up her nose, but undoubtedly only Unspeakables would smell.

'Agent 278?' she asked, sitting down on the chair by the bed, and setting a reliablely charmed quill down on a piece of parchment she had produced from within her cloak. 'This is 433.'

'433?' asked the weak voice from the bed, and 278 offered her a weak smile from the bed, 'Good to see you're out of here.'

'Thankyou 278,' within the confines of St Mungo's the code numbers were used without exception. 'Healer Nott?'

Nott appeared, surly, at her shoulder, glowering at where her face should have been underneath the cloak. Hermione nodded her head at him.

'I need a detailed annalysis of the problem, and expected recovery time.' Nott sighed disagreably and began to speak;

'A spell similar to legilimens has been used to get into the brain, unforetunately this was too strong and has prevaded the brain permanantly. Whether this was intended or not I cannot say. The spell has attacked the spinal cord, and left the patient paralysed from neck downwards. Extensive damage to the nerve ending means all sense of touch and smell have been eradicated. Skin problems have been noticed, and the patient is generally disorientated.'

'Thankyou,' the Quick Quote Quills poised like expectant birds on the paper, 'Estimated recovery time?'

'Approximately three weeks, depending on the disorientations. He's also very willing to discuss the Department of Mysteries.'

Even if he was rather unpleasent, Nott was at least honest, and apparantly sensative, as he cast a silencing spell on agent 433 and himself while he discussed this. 278 watched in vague interest as the spell was lifted and Nott stalked up the ward.

'278,' Hermione paused to cast another silencing charm around the bed, 'Can you tell me what happened?'

'We had made a breakthrough on the Veil case after two days of not leaving the department. I left to go home, via the Leaky Cauldron for a drink, and had some sort of spell put on me from behind. Diagon Alley was perfectly deserted, even Knockturn Alley was quiet which struck me as a little bit odd.'

'Stop,' Hermione commanded rather suddenly. 'You shouldn't have told me that. You shouldn't have spoken to me. I have my hood up, you don't know if it's me. You shouldn't even be speaking to me anyway. It's dangerous.'

'Is it?' a vague, unhurried look crossed his pale, lank face. 'But I can't really remember what we were talking about.'

'I am sorry. I really am.'

Hermione stood back from the bed and whispered _legilimens_. Memroy after memory of his life as an unspeakable flashed before her eyes and his; the first day, the last operation, the passwords and wands. Carefully storing the memory of what had happened to him when he was attacked in her wand tip, she gathered all the memories she needed together.

'Oblivate Memoritos specificatus,' she said quickly, and the memories went black.

The wand laying on the bedside table was glowing slightly; all Unspeakable wands did this in the eyesight of another Unspeakable, and the girl scooped it up while 278 was unconcious and snapped it easily in half, pocketing it afterwards for reference.

'Hello?' said 278 dreamily, appearing to wake up, 'Where am I?'

'Healer Nott?' called Hermione softly along the ward, and Theodore appeared. 'My business here is done. There are no adverse effects to the charm I have preformed. Do not mention to him how he sustained his injuries please, or tell him who I am.'

'I don't even know who you are myself,' snapped Nott angrily, 'Have you modified him?!'

'Yes,' she answered plainly.

Before Nott could hex her as he obviously wished to, the ward doors burst open and a red robed Healer burst into the room, chest heaving.

'_Nott_!'the Healer bellowed, blonde hair straggling down from the normally impeccable ponytail, 'Nott! What on earth have you done with the spell I requested?'

Nott, his face tinging red with anger, looked from the Unspeakable he wished to give a piece of his mind to, to the red robed and flustered Healer who was running down the corridor at full speed.

'_You_ _cannot_ modify _my_ patients without _my_ approval!' he bawled at last, 'It's completely illegal and unethical!'

'It is necessary, unless you wish for the demise of the entire wizarding world.'

'You've destroyed his previous life!'

'Healer Nott, the spell I have used is a specific charm combined with legilimens. I have merely obliviated the memories to do with his work in the Unspeakable Department.'

'Nott!' the red faced Healer had burst up on them by now, and looked furious, 'I need that spell!'

Nott scowled furiously, and turned away from her towards Draco Malfoy. Hermione felt her heart quicken painfully under the black cloak, and could sense the curiousity with which he was regarding the shapeless Unspeakable who stood before him.

'There are only three people in Britain able to do that spell!' Nott hissed at last, looking furious, 'You cannot expect me to believe you are Severus Snape.'

'He is my tutor,' Hermione replied defiantly, having had quite enough of the angry, scornful feelings radiating towards her.

'433?' said Malfoy at last, curious, his stomach curling up into tight little balls.

Hermione turned towards him, the robes rippling as she moved, and gave a little inclination of her head to show her recognition. Draco smirked at her lopsidedly.

'Nott, it's alright, 433's qualified.'

Nott scowled and gestured towards the sickly looking ex-Unspeakable on the bed behind them.

'She obliviated my patient!' he cried, rather hysterically.

'Leave it, Nott. I need that spell.'

Nott scowled, his lank face screwing up into a small, comical paper napkin. Grumbling under his breath, he slid away almost silently, every patient's eyes following him as he went. Draco smiled at the Unspeakable's hood; a comforting, kind smile.

'They put you back on field duty already?' he asked, concern shining through his grey eyes.

'They didn't want to,' admitted the Unspeakable guiltily, 'I threw a minor tantrum to get my way. But 837's watching me like an overenthusiastic troll.'

'Are your hands any better?' he asked at last, watching her hood shrewdly.

The hood shook negatively, and the shoulders shrugged. A pair of hands appeared from within the boundries of the cloak; the tips were still almost black, veins clearly visable and blue, pale as if the blood had been sucked out of them. The Healer took the right one and turned it over.

'I apply the potion every morning, and it lasts until about nine at night. No-one knows there's still a problem.'

'Stop being stubborn and refrain from field work. We don't know what's wrong with them.'

'I can't, I love my work.'

'Learn to love your health more. They could be dangerous.'

'You haven't shriveled up and died yet,' she pointed out calmly, retracting the hands into her cloak.

By the time Healer Nott returned, both were gone. He cursed.

Little moaning Space:-

_MadAboutHarry:-_ Check under your wardrobe; I hear chocolate frogs like to live under wardrobes! Oh hang on, that's _closet_ isn't it? Okay. Thanks.

_Ckrfan_:- how do you feel about writing summaries for a living? Nah, only kidding. Thanks for the review.

_Sweet jane_:- Is that enough D/H interaction. Bless little Nott, isn't he sweet?

_NitenGlae:-_ I'm sorry – being almost killed, reserected several times and Draco Malfoy action isn't enough? _Grumbles_ Thanks for reviewing anyway.

_Foxxglove:-_ And I thought my screen name was scary. Thanks. I actually have a beta, but she's not betaing this fiction. In fact, I'm not even sure if she's still alive. I keep meaning to email her. Hrmph-hrmph. Thanks for your review!

If I bribe you by telling you that next chapter **_The Kiss_** happens, will you review? Because you're not getting it until I have at least five reviews for this chapter. See, you've reduced me to bribery. I'm desperate over here!

_This chapter_ we meet 433 in her working environment, day dreaming about Draco (we think). Zacharias Smith (who you will find somewhere in The Order of the Phoenix) has a little rib at her, and she's sent out on field work to obliviate a fellow Unspeakable. Following a run in with the receptionist at St. Mungo's, she makes her way upto the counter-jinx ward where she encounters ex-Slytherin Theodore Nott (TootP) and has a wee argument with him. Malfoy arrives in a less than impeccable state, and saves Hermione from having her head blasted off. Argues about field duty follow, and then they both vanish. Ooooooh. By the way, in the vial she was playing with is the potion she puts onn her hands.


	7. Love in Vain

**All I need to get by**

****

Chapter Six: _Love in Vain_

The Leaky Cauldron in Diagon Alley was the regular meeting place for the vast majority of Aurors off duty, and several of the younger Healers, coupled with a few Unspeakables. The dark oak bar tops gleamed in the low light, and the stacks of bottles behind the bar joined the reflections. Around the wobbly, scratchy oak tables, on the wobbly benches propped up with shopping lists from long ago customers, sat the aurors, resplendant in their grey uniforms. Healers in red robes sat on the bar stools nursing heavy fire whiskys, and in the corners sat shadey looking people that no-one wanted to go near – Unspeakables. Outside the sun shone, glancing in briefly through stained glass dusty windows, and the sound of rowdy, happy voices drew nearer.

Hermione Granger, off-duty, stumbled into the Leaky Cauldron with her arm draped around Zacharias' shoulders, hiccouping with laughter. Her black gossamor cloak had been banished home, and she was in a black shirt and trousers that, like all Unspeakables, resembled a pair of jodhopers, but flattering and finished off with a pair of black dragon hide boots. Her hair curled riotuously down from her head in springing loops as she threw said head back and laughed uproarously.

'Hermione!' came a shout from a wobbly table, 'Hermione!'

'Ron!' she squeled happily, making all the onlookers in the bar turn suddenly. On a stool a Healer stiffened.

'Hey Hermi!' greeted Harry Potter, elbowing her knee affectionately from underneath his wife, who was sitting on his lap.

'I need a drink!' announced Hermione, sitting down quite firmly on Zach's lap, so he let out a little oomph of mock air.

The old barman Tom, who had a face somewhat like a napkin, complete with warts like crumbs, grinned a toothless, indulgent smile at her and fished under the counter for a bottle of Odgeon's Odd Orange Schnapps, which was Hermione's regular. Her face almost lit up – her Friday night treat was tanatlizingly close.

'_Accio_! _Accio_!' she whispered, and the bottle for which she had been aiming came spinning across to her, along with the schnapps glass she regularly employed.

'What about me?' whispered Zach, burying his nose into her throat like a small puppy.

'Fine,' she murmured petulantly, getting up from his legs, 'An orange juice?'

'Only if it's spiked,' was his immediate reply, and she laughed again.

The journey to the bar, however short, took her a while. Friends and acquaintances kept stopping her, volunteering to buy her drinks, discussing their new research with her, or, in the case of Lavender Brown who was sitting with Padma Patil with a stiff G&T, to tell her that Parvati had just had a baby, and still didn't know who the father was.

'Seriously?' was Hermione's slightly scandalized answer, and Lavender nodded over the drink, 'You need more than a G&T then.'

'This is her third,' replied Padma, who was in fact nursing her seventh butterbeer.

'Hermione! Drink!' drifted across to the table where she stood, and she patted Lavender's hand in a comforting way, smiling at Padma.

'Keep your hair on Zach!' she bellowed back, and left the table for the bar.

Tom had to go and fetch a new barrel of butterbeer, so while she waited Hermione slipped her foor onto the low bar that ran along the bottom of the bar, and rested her elbows on the top, and chewed a cashew nut from a bowl.

'Oh come on Nott, cheer up,' said a familiar voice by her side, and she looked along to where two Healers in red robes sat nursing firewhisky.

'Cheer up?' questioned the one furthest away from her, long nose almost touching the rim of the glass as he drooped, 'I lost two patients.'

'One,' corrected the familiar Healer, and pulled his hood away from his face.

Draco Malfoy had not had a good week. His neat blonde hair was loose from the ponytail, and his black shoes were scuffed from running around the hospital. A criticaly unstable auror had come in three days ago, and he had had no sleep. Purple bags rimmed his grey eyes as he watched the whisky swirl around the bottom of his glass. The patient was now stable, demanding and flirtatcious. He had a curiously empty feeling inside of him, which no amount of good wizarding or muggle food could move, and had no desire to find himself a quick shag.

'Hmmm,' murmured Nott, 'But one was obliviated.'

'They have to do that,' snapped Malfoy finally, annoyed with the other Healer. 'It's their job.'

'Pah!' was Nott's reply, and Hermione, lodged against the bar, absolutely hated him at that moment.

'Baby doll, where's my drink?' Zach's voice drowned out Malfoy's reply of 'But at least the girl you love isn't sitting over there with a Ravenclaw idiot.'

'It's coming Zach, it's coming,' sighed Hermione, allowing him to pull her hair affectionately. 'Although it smells like you've had one already.'

'Just some of Harry's firewhisky!' exclaimed the Unspeakable, 'I was dieing of thirst!'

'You were not!'

'How would you know? You were loitering by the bar!'

'I was _not_ loitering!' Hermione sounded vaguely cross.

'You were!' Zach's voice raised itself a fraction, and people began to look around, 'Probably _ogling_ that auror in the corner!'

'Shut _up_ Zach! I was not ogling _anyone_! Besides it wouldn't make any difference to _you_!'

'There's your butterbeer and spiked orange juice, Hermione love.'

Tom pushed the full glasses towards Hermione, who glared furiously at Zach, picked up the butterbeer and in one swift motion upended it over his head. He spluttered, eyes full of rage.

'Oh sorry,' he spat angrily, 'Set your sights higher than me haven't you? After a Malfoy aren't you?'

Hermione could have screamed in rage, she could have slapped him, she could have hexed him, she could have kneed him in his unmentionables, but she did none of those things. Her brown eyes filled with sudden tears which burnt the back of her throat, and spilt over her cheeks. She strode furiously from the pub swiping her face with the back of one hand, sniffling.

'You fool!' Malfoy exclaimed, looming off the barstool, 'How dare you say that!?'

'Because I've been chasing her for two years, and you come along and get her in three months! You were a bastard to her in school, and you'll probably be a bastard to her now!' snarled the Unspeakable.

Harry laid an arm on Zach's shoulder, and tightened his fingers around the bone area. The whisky and vodka that Smith had consumed in his time off had made him hard and authorative, and Hermione soft and blurred around the edges. She hadn't had as much to drink as him, but when she jokingly slumped into his arms he took it as too much encouragement. Posessive and angry, the stress from Operation Stonehenge, which was not going well, combined with the guilt Hermione felt over obliterating a fellow Unspeakable, had forced the two into an argument, and Harry was not going to stand by and let him deck Malfoy, or Malfoy deck him.

It seemed Malfoy was in no danger of being thumped; he had slipped underneath Zach's fumbling arms, flashed a grateful sweep of his eyes at Harry, and vanished through the doorway.

'Coward!' bellowed Zach, as Harry apparated him home.

♠

Draco found Hermione leaning into a brick wall in Diagon Alley opposite the Apothocary , her forehead touching the cool stone and her hands bunched at her sides. She was crying silently, liquid spilling down her smooth cheeks and off her chin so that it splattered the black material underneath. Her back spasmed as she drew breath. He approached her almost silently, scrubbing a hand through his hair as he did so.

'Hermione?' he asked softly, 'Granger?'

She turned awkwardly, her her hands reached up once more to swipe at the tears when she saw him standing there. Behind her the brick wall was slightly damp with rising London fog, and a blood pop lay in the gutter close to her foot. He reached forward with one hand as if reaching out to a wild animal with whom one is wary.

'Draco,' she said, fumbling for words, 'What are you doing here?'

She was hiccuping a little now, ragged breaths filling her lungs as she swiped again at her cheeks. Her brown eyes were wide and startled, soft with the drink, and something else that Draco was too far away to see properly.

'I was drinking with Nott,' he explained casually.

'You – You heard all that?!' she exclaimed, hands rising to cover her mouth.

'He was harsh to you. Smith never was one for being a good boyfriend.'

'Oh! He's not my boyfriend,' she assured him a little too quickly, 'We're good friends – or at least we were.'

'He was drunk, Hermione, you can't blame him. And you certainly acted like a couple.'

'I wouldn't want to kiss Zach anyway!' she declared, moving closer to him so that he held her in his arms.

Draco savoured the feel of her warm silken clothes in his arms, and the firm body underneath. Her hair tickled his chin, and the smell was fruity which rose up to his ofaltory senses. The light in Diagon Alley came only from the bright windows above him as a witch tuned in Wizarding Wireless, and the sound of the Weird Sister's new song, a slow, mushy number, drifted out to them.

'Why _wouldn't_ you want to kiss Smith?' asked Draco at last.

Hermione backed straight out of his arms, her eyes gleaming and wide in anger. Her mouth was compressed into a tiny bud of pink in her face, and her eyebrows knitted over her brow.

'_How could you?_' she forced out, '_You took care of me, you saved my life and I fell in __love__ with you. I don't even know why. Tell me!_'

'You fell in love with me?' Draco murmured weakly, his insides preparing for lift off instantaneously.

'_Of course I fell in love with you_!' she bellowed rather quietly, '_You're sweet, and kind, and intelligent, and respectful! You may have been a bastard, hell, sometimes you're still a jackass, but that doesn't stop me loving you!'_

There was a laboured silence for a moment, and the lights overhead waned as the witch above the apothecary went to bed.

'_And NOW you tell me you're GAY_?'

Draco could have laughed, or cried, or something. His heart was catching in his ribs like studs on a muddy football ground, and he was sliding towards her, and suddenly he had her in his arms, and she was fighting to get away, and he was holding her so tightly she would have bruises the next day.

'I'll _show_ you how gay I am!' he whispered fiercly.

And then his lips were on hers, crashing down on her lips, and his tongue was tracing his name on her bottom lip, and her tongue was meeting his, and they were dancing together, and there was no regular rythym because this was _passion_. Pure unadultered passion.

When they finally stopped for air and stepped back a little, although Draco didn't release his hold on her, the light was fading. The Leaky Cauldron doors were spilling light onto the pavement was the archway opened magically and drunk wizards tottered towards the road where they could get the knight bus, or where they had parked their car. Rowdy laughter and crude comments mingled with a upbeat jazz now churning from the Wireless. Above them the moon was hidden beneath a bank of cloud, and they were suddenly standing in shadow.

And Draco felt his breath catch again because the girl in his arms was crying again, and wiping the tears on the edge of his shoulder. And she was soft in his arms, relaxed and delicated, and when she looked up her eyes were full of tears and love. And looking down on her were the most beautiful, passionate, lustful, loving pair of grey eyes she had ever seen.

'Gay am I?' he smirked suddenly, 'I think I've fallen for you.'

Hermione didn't answer, just pressed her hot, swollen lips to his and kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed. And it wasn't until the frost crept up Draco's show that he apparated them to his flat, with her lips still glued to his.

Blabber Area:- 

MadAboutHarry:- [whispers] Between you and me, I'm not entirely sure where it's going either. No, only kidding. Why would you put them in the fridge? Check the freezer.

Chamorro:- Yes oh demanding one – one new chapter. Thanks!

Miss3y:- I have to agree with you about MASH – just as a promotional bit of advertising in this space – go watch it if you haven't. Can I get kicked off for that? Woops. Thanks for your review!

Sweet jane:- I like Zach as well – even totally drunk! Bless him and his little posessive streak. And he got them together – his use holds no bounds. Well, what did you think of the ::drumroll:: kiss? Ta.

NitenGale:- No, your review wasn't out of order. It was just the **s**igh** - **it makes me giggle. But thanks for the apologies anyway – and you came back! Yeah, I seem to go for the forgotten characters. Even Zabini wriggled his way in. And I simply had to get someone grumpy, pessimistic and antagonistic in there – Nott seemed to fit the bill!

Coooeee! This chapter wasn't meant to offend gay people, I should probably say, I just got half way through and thought, gadzooks, Draco's like, totally gay. I think I'm being irrational though! They're slightly drunk alright, that was the only way to get them together…Hermione's clearly gone mad, thinking he's gay. I think it's the 'smith never was one for being a good boyfriend' line. It screams 'I've been out with Smith!' perhaps it's my delusional mind.

And thanks for the really prompt reviews – it's great! Chapter six already – sob, only six more chapters to go! And then we neatly wrap up. And look, I wrote dodgy poetry for you! Yeah, down there. Good, eh?

_You sit and watch,_

_And all the mistakes flash through your brain,_

_Every chapter I make a botch,_

_I know,_

_But sometimes the enthusiasm wanes,_

_So off you go and **review.**_


	8. Sleeping With My Eyes Open

**All I need to get by**

****

Chapter Eight: _Sleeping with my eyes open_

_Here we go again another humpem dumpem situation  
Here we go again another humpem dumpem situation  
Here we go again, here we go again  
Now I know what you're like and I don't think I like it._

_Wheatus 'Hump'em'N'Dump'em' chorus_

The door of Draco Malfoy's Chelsea flat was painted black, the paint peeling away slightly at the bottom where he had kicked it too many times. The railing were black as well, steep steps leading down to the basement flat where Blaise abini occassionally lived when his landlord evicted him. The doormat was seagrass, and the boot scraper immaculately clean. The bronze doorknob gleamed in the Saturday morning light as dawn crept over the river Thames. Traffic reverberated gently from the main street, and the long necked dahlias swayed in the breeze throughout the small, neat gardens.

Inside the hall was gloomy, the open plan kitchen blinds were closed as they had been for three days. The smell of alcohol lay heavy in the air, billowing up the stairs. A red robe was flung haphazardly over the banisters. A pair of black leather shoes were lying by the door, one two steps further on as if the owner had hopped on from his apparation point.

His bedroom door was open, light sulking in through bamboo blinds. Forest green walls and a dark wood wardrobe which spanned an entire wall. A panelled door leading through to the white, gleaming ensuite. A pair of dragonskin boots with the bottom two laces left done up lay abandoned just inside the doorway. There was a crisp white shirt missing several buttons over the plush cream chair. The four poster's cream curtains were half pulled. A black shirt had landed on top of the mantelpiece.

The black jodphurs that were Unspeakable regulation uniform were on the floor, a caramel coloured bra lying next to them. The matching knickers were on the bedpost; a pair of red silk boxers on the opposite post caught the dull gleam on sunlight eagerly. The trousers that had been worn over the top of them were half draped over the bed.

Hermione Granger awoke out of a distinctly purple dream slowly. Light peered in through her smudged eyelids, and lighted on the dark mascara circles underneath her eyes. She licked her red, swollen lips a little, and turned over. Still her eyes did not open. She wrinkled her nose briefly, and threw an arm above her head to rest on the soft pillow. Something untoward twitched in the corner of her brain, as she stroked the pillow carefully, not quite awake. She never had soft pillows – hard pillows were better for her posture. Her brain highlighted the issue again. And again.

Sucking her breath in briefly, and sniffing inelegantly she reached out a hand for her bedside table, and slammed down on empty air. Her brain twitched ferverantly again. Her magical alarm clock had vanished. Thinking about that briefly, the neurons passed along the message that the hand had not met the bedside table either. Her brain blinked briefly, and gave the order to open the eyes.

The brown eyes opened blurrily without seeing much before she blinked, and her vision returned to normal.

Drace Malfoy's head was lying on the pillow next to hers, the covers pulled up around his chin as he snuggled into the bed. His hair was splayed over the pillow, and a fluffy knot was twisting itself in above his right ear. There was drool on his pillow, and his breathing was perfectly undetectable. His eyes were startlingly grey, slightly unfocused, but open enough to make his bedmate start, and then relax slightly.

Draco Malfoy slept with his eyes open. It had been enough to frighten at least four Hogwarts students into running out of his bed before he woke up; enough to keep his teachers off his back in lectures; enough to make sure that nobody tried to stab him in his sleep. A knack, a learning curve, a reprecussion of his days at war with Severus Snape, and of living in Malfoy Manor.

Hermione rolled onto her back, and watched the cream curtains billow in the air slightly. A car horn sounded it's note somewhere far off, and she permitted a small smile to grace her lips.

Draco Malfoy woke up hurridly as he felt the bed next to him shift too much. Turning his head towards the inside of the bed he noticed the naked back sitting up on the edge of the large bed.

'Do you have to be at work today?' he asked suddenly, and Hermione turned towards him, the small smile still on her face.

'They'll think I'm sleeping off a hangover,' she answered.

'Then why are you getting up?' he stretched languidly and raised an eyebrow at her.

'To save my dignity?' she suggested teasingly, 'Before you throw me out.'

'Why would I throw you out?' he asked, so startled he sat upright.

'Draco, what we had last night was clearly the result of drink.'

'Was it?' he asked seriously, 'How much did you have?'

'I'm not sure,' she admitted, doing the clasp of her bra up.

'I didn't even get halfway through a firewhisky,' he fibbed. 'Can you remember anything?'

'I remember asking you if you were gay,' she at least had the grace to blush, he noticed.

'Damaging my male pride,' he grinned, 'Now come back to bed.'

She paused, letting the knickers in her hand hang limply from her fingers. Draco Malfoy had the reputation of being a one night stand man. A Humpem'n'dumpem Harry had accurately described him as. He had been through almost the entire population of Hogwarts. Undoubtedly he was teasing her, waiting to humiliate her. She pulled the knickers on.

'No,' collecting her jodphurs and pulling them on, smoothing them down, 'I'd better not.'

'Why not?' Draco sounded shocked and hurt, but she didn't turn to look at him as she pulled the shirt on over her head, and laced the boots up neatly.

'Hump'em'N'Dump'em,' she answered securely, and walked out to the hallway.

Draco didn't think he'd ever moved so fast. He was out of bed and in front of her before she even made it to the top of the stairs. Hermione raised an eyebrow at his complete lack of dignity.

'I'm a one night stand?' he asked, vainly incredulous.

'I don't have time for a relationship right now.'

'Then we won't be a relationship!' he grasped, slightly desperately. His grey eyes looked searchingingl into her brown ones, and somewhere she felt her resolve crumble a little.

'What will we be?' she asked, 'Two humpers'n'dumpers stuck together?'

'No!' he almost shouted. 'Last night you said you loved me, did you lie?'

Hermione almost cursed the drinks she had consumed last night, and then felt tears rise up in her eyes. It was true, she did love him – or at least she thought she did. But his reputation scared her. What kind of girl wants to go out with a playboy, and one who had never hesitated having several chicks on the side at any time? And his schedule. She had seen it briefly last night, blu-tacked to the fridge. Colour coded regular hours gleaming victoriously. Every Unspeakable relationship with anyone other than another one of them or an auror had failed miserably. The timing was indistinct and planned for single men, not broody women.

'No,' she admitted finally, 'No I didn't lie.'

'Then why are you trying to leave?' he asked, his heart skipping a track as it whirled around.

TalkTalk-without-the-telephone-bit:

Paprika90:- funky name. Thanks for your lovely review.

Reginaterrae:- talk about enthusiasm. Thanks!

Midnight Angel:- Thanks so much! That was a really encouraging review. [10 minutes later - I was just reading over this when I realised I spelt your screen name Midnight Angle. Go me. ;-)]

Sweet jane:- :: squels too:: heeehee. You know, I hadn't even thought about the mornign after until you mentioned it. I was just kind of going to skip over it happily. And then I thought, 'I can't do that to sweet jane! I must write a morning after scene!'. This was the second attempt, the first one was too amusing. It didn't fit. I hope you like it, it's yours really.

MadAboutHarry:- Since you review like, every chapter I shall allow you to be critical ::sniffs::. Chapter seven was meant to be confusing, because basically they're completely tiddly. Sloshed, off their heads. So there's only the vaguest links between the conversation. It was modelled on how my mate X gets when she's had a little too much too drink – maybe it was a bit obscure. Draco isn't gay – he said somewhere 'Smith never was one for being a good boyfriend' and 'Why wouldn't you want to kiss hime?' and Hermione, in her drunken daze, picked that up, but not much else. Make your kids buy me new ones!

Aly Dragonchild:- Welcome, I don't think I've seen you before. Yeah, the typo demon of doom refuses to flush itself down the toilet. I do actually use Word, but unfortunately I have a German computer (clever I know) so everything I type is wrong, and it givs up and sulks. Possibly the fact that I'm a seriously bad speller doesn't help either! Hoorah! You say muchly! Congratulations! How can you hate romance? It wasn't even soppy ;-)Thanks for your review!

Erin:- Thanks very much!

Chamorro:- Ha! Finally someone who appreciates sadistic humour! ::hugs:: Thanks a lot.

Incase you missed the talktalk reference, there's a telephone company over here called talktalk and I was just watching one of their dodgy commercials. What kind of company talks itself talktalk? It's like calling a baking company EatEat, or a Chinese take-away ChowChow. Goodness, I crack myself up sometimes. The phrase 'humper'n'dumper' refers to people who have sex with their partners and then finish it, and was not meant to be offensive if you like that kind of thing.

Dundundun… Isn't Malfoy sweet? I got really tired of reading fictions where Granger begs Malfoy to keep her, so I was like, yay, let's make Malfoy cute and fluffy. And now what happens? Hmmmmmm.


	9. Love as a Stranger

**All I need to get by**

****

ChapterEight: _Love as a Stranger_

_Born on the wrong side of the manger_

_Love has always been a stranger_

_I was troubled by truth, now I'm out of danger_

_And I shake, I rattle and I roll_

_Taken from the song 'I shake' by Gregson and Collister from the album 'The Last Word'_

_This chapter is for the three children of Mad About Harry because they ate the chocolate frogs she promised me and they're successfully making her loose her grasp on reality; and for Mad About Harry because she's such a lovely reviewer!_

The foyer of St Mungo's Hospital was almost hysterically calm. A small, stooped Wizard with a wand jammed up his nose was in the waiting area, but apart from that it was almost silent. The blonde receptionist was persuing the newest edition of Witch Weekly ('_Getting your man in Five Simple Spells_!') and absently tapping her wand against the desk. In the A&E office the Healer in charge put his feet up on the desk and allowed his trainee to examine the witch who had arrived with no legs. August summer sunlight drifted lazily in through the large windows and dust motes swirled slightly. Somewhere a singing greeting card sounded, and a lift whirled.

Even on the top floor of St Mungo's, in the attics, it was calm. Only two out of five beds were filled, and as they were his nurses' concern, Healer Malfoy was sitting in his overstuffed leather chair with his shirt sleeves around his elbows and watching the muggles scurry below instead of filling out a report on bed linen supplies. His feet, free from the leather shoes he prized, were propped up on the corner of his desk, next to a glass of iced Pumpkin cordial.

It was a completely different story in the bowls of the Ministry of Magic where the department of Mysteries was located. Although the same sunlight danced through the small windows in the offices, the vast majority of it was filled with gloom and whispering Unspeakables. Only the brains in the tanks drifted without a care in the world.

'But sir!' protested agent 433, her shirt sleeves rolled up around her forearms and a black leather satchel at her feet, 'I can't just up and leave!'

'You've never had any problem with field work before!' snapped the Head Unspeakable irately.

'I have commitments now!' she proclaimed hotly, 'And they're not just with aurors who understand these matters!'

'You're an Unspeakable agent!' snapped the Head back, 'He'll just have to get used to it! He's an Unspeakable anyway no doubt.'

'Sir, he's a mediwizard with a regular schedule – he doesn't know I tend to get hauled off at no notice. I have to tell him at least!'

'Good gracious Merlin, you're not seeing Malfoy are you? Sweet mother of Dumbeldore.'

'Just let me go to St. Mungo's sir!'

'No! You're going to Unseen Stonehenge University to visit your tutor Severus Snape, who is there attending a Potions conference - how many times do I have to say this?'

'But sir!'

'No buts! Apparate immediently before I'm forced to tandem apparate you!'

'Sir!'

'And don't even think about apparating to st Mungo's again – you'll be bound to the university for a week – so no owls or anything!'

'Please?'

The Head Unspeakable relented slightly, and motioned to one of the Unspeakable's standing in the gloom studying the wall intently.

'I'll send a message to Malfoy alright? Via Potter as usual.'

'Unseen Stonehenge University!' said Hermione rather moodily, and apparated silently.

She almost landed on her tutor as she apparated into the small room set apart for this purpose. Her satchel was flung haphazardly on her shoulder as he tutted disapprovingly at her. Dressed in his voluminous black robes charmed to stay cool, and with his lank hair falling around his face he didn't appear to be any substitute for the gorgeous, pale, pointed man who would be waiting in vain for her in the pub in ten minutes. She sighed petulantly and dropped a few milimetres in recognition for his superior intellect in the University, as custom demanded.

'Good evening miss Granger,' he said dryly.

'Good evening professor,' answered the girl broodily, scowling at her boots.

'I am glad to see you in black girl.'

'As if I had any option, going anywhere with you,' she elbowed him playfully in the ribs, 'You sniff in a terribly disapproving manner when I wear anything other than black or silver.'

'Black is servicable when dealing with potions,' he answered snidely. 'You may recollect that white shirt you wore in your first year of being tutored by me, the one that was dissolved away within seconds.'

'That wasn't because it was white!'

'Good evening professor Snape and miss Granger,' came an older, more velnerable voice from the doorway, and the two bowed and followed the Lecturer into the University.

♠

'She's where?' exclaimed the disconcerted Draco Malfoy.

Harry Potter sighed a little bit and carefully moved the barstool he was leaning on closer to Malfoy, and then hopped up onto it, ordering another firewhisky to match Malfoy's, which he was nursing. The black haired, scrawny man had heard the news that Hermione was off again from an Unidentifable Unspeakable, who had not sent him the usual memo, but had materialised in his office looking distinctly shady and knocking over Kingsley Shacklebolt.

'She's gone to a potion's conference with professor Snape,' explained Harry again.

'I'm sorry – she just upped and left for a _potion's_ conference?' Draco's voice was rising steadily.

'It's her _job_! The potion's conference'll be cover, as Severus Snape is generally her covering civilian.'

'She didn't tell _me_!'

'What, you didn't know she _vanishes_ almost once a month? This is a long one, normally it's only a few days.'

From the angry silence Harry assumed Hermione hadn't told him; hadn't told the bloke sitting nursing a firewhisky and glaring at the bar table about her field work. He sat there for a moment until his own firewhisky was pushed towards him by Tom.

'Why didn't _she_ tell me?' snarled Draco suddenly.

'She's probably not allowed. Her job, well, it's a little bit _secretive_. Potions and all that, you know.'

'For Chrissake Potter, I know _what_ she is!'

Harry risked a glance at the blonde sitting next to him. Over at the back of the room Ron howled with mirth at Ginny, who had just told him about a witch who had popped into Tokyo via apparation, and splinched herslef in an odd way – apparantly she had lost her clothes and eyes in London, and the rest in Tokyo. A Japanese business man had dropped into a dead faint at the sight of the naked, wandless, eyeless witch in his front room. Harry awkwardly grinned at him.

'Look, Malfoy, she'll be back soon.'

'You don't get it, do you Potter? I haven't seen her for a week and a half. Hell, I'm going home.'

As Malfoy apparated in a furious fit of betryal, Harry wandered back over to his wife, who was beaming at him.

'Look Ron,' he said a little awkwardly, 'We have important news.'

The red head looked up from his splutterings into a butterbeer at Harry, who had wrapped his arms around his wife of three years. She was smiling adoringly up at him, and fleetingly Ron wondered if Hermione looked at Malfoy like that. Harry cleared his throat a little. He was hesitating.

'Oh Ron!' burst out Ginny, 'I'm pregnant !'

There was complete silence for all of three seconds while Ron processed this sentence. And then the butterbeer toppled off the floor and he was on his feet, slowly going purple.

'WHAT?' he bellowed, 'WHAT DO YOU MEAN _PREGNANT_?'

Ginny's smile faltered for a moment, and she smiled at Harry again.

'Oh come on Ron,' stuttered the slightly elder auror, 'It's not like it wasn't planned.'

Ron sat down rather heavily, and the noise in the bar rose to crescendo again.

'I'm disgusted,' he muttered at last, 'I'm going home.'

As Harry watched the spot where Ron had popped out of just a second ago, Ginny squeezed his arm.

'Well,' she said cheerfully, 'That went well! Oh, come on, he didn't try to kill you.'

♠

'Agent 433!' came the cry of the Head Unspeakable when she apparated back into the Department of Mysteries and landed on another Unspeakable.

'Sir!' she managed woozily, and scrambled to her feet.

'Have you got the reports?'

'Yessir. Every inch of those blasted stones have been photographed, a week long night time watch was mounted by broom and foot, the habits of the muggles concerning the stones have been noted, and I couldn't find anything untoward in the actual University campus.'

Exhaustedly she turned out the contents of her satchel on the tabel. Sixteen rolls of wizarding camera film toppled out onto the polished oak, followed by neast notes and timetables, and a map of the University and Stones which resembled the Mauraders Map.

'Excellent!' the Head Unspeakable motioned an Unspeakable forward to collect the findings, and turned back to 433. 'A week off will be sufficent I believe; we need to annalyse these. Was your civilian happy?'

'Until I poured shrinking solution on his foot sir. And now I need a drink.'

♠

The Leaky Cauldron was full of wizards and witches when Hermione walted in. In a table next to the fireplace sat Harry and Ginny, along with Kingsley Shacklebolt and Blaise Zabini, all arguing about Quidditch at the top of their voices. Hermione raised her eyebrows at the notable absence of Ron, but leaned over to her left and headed for the bar.

''Ello Hermione,' greeted Tom, grinning toothlessly, 'Whare 'ave you been?'

'Potion's Conference at Unseen Stonehenge University with professor Snape,' answered the girl, 'Hit me with a butterbeer please Tom. I need something comforting, the old bat kept me up all night making potions.'

'There you go poppet. On the house.'

'Cheers Tom.'

Tom watched indulgently as she swept gracefully towards her friends and the fireplace, before being called off to provide a Firewhisky for an auror. Ginny Potter was the first to notice her, grinning excitedly and leaping off Harry's lap to embrace her.

'Well?' she demanded breathlessly, 'How was the Potion's conference?'

'Interesting,' answered Hermione as Blaise pulled her down on the bench next to him and slung an affectionate arm around her shoulders, 'I managed to spill shrinking solution on professor Snape's foot.'

The whole table exploded into laughter, and Ginny hiccuped along. Hermione grinned, basking in the love of her friends, and sipped her butterbeer. Her muscles relaxed and she cuddled into Blaise a little.

'Where's Ron?' she asked curiously, 'Working late?'

'Er, no,' said Harry, twiddling his thumb around the glass of firewhisky he was nursing, 'He's not actually speaking to me.'

'Oh,' Hermione rolled her eyes, 'What happened?'

'Oh Hermione!' shrieked Ginny excitedly, tugging her friend's arm, 'How would you feel about being a godmother?'

There was complete silence while Hermione blinked in surprise.

'Is that why Ron's not speaking to you?' she asked slyly, 'Because you asked him to be godmother?'

Blaise and Kingsley exploded into laughter, and Ginny beamed. Harry was still finding the rickoty table interesting.

'When?' asked Hermione complacently, so tired nothing could really bother her.

'In about five months,' Ginny beamed at Harry again.

'What?!' cried Hermione, dropping her butterbeer back on the table in surprise, 'Five months? How d'you manage to persuade Harry to keep his mouth shut?'

'The same way someday you'll keep Malfoy quiet,' Ginny winked.

Hermione exclaimed quickly and leapt to her feet, finishing the butterbeer in one long mouthful.

'Draco! Does anyone know where he is? Did you get a message to him? Is he angry?' the Unspeakable babbled, and Blaise grinned at her.

'He'll be at St. Mungo's – he's working late tonight which means he's furious, and yes, the message got to him.'

Hermione barelled out of the pub without a second glance at her friends, scooping the satchel up as she ran. Her butterbeer bottle gleamed in the candle light as the talk of Quidditch resummed. Outside the pub Hermione apparated into St Mungo's, panting for breath as she gasped the stitch in her side.

'How can I help you?' asked the receptionist, looking bored and playing with her fingernails.

'Department of Mysteries!' gasped the unspeakable, and belted towards the stairs.

♠

Draco Malfoy was sitting at his desk filling in a report for the auror he had dismissed some days previously, his quill tip between his teeth and a slightly aching neck. His blond eyebrows were pinched together crossly as he jabbed the quill into the ink pot and began writing again. The evening sunlight was gloomy, but enough to write by, so his wand lay close to his hand.

'Draco?' said a rather quiet, shy voice from behind him, and he laid the quill down.

**GossipGossipGossip:-**

Vampy the chosen one:- I don't think it's ever been called cute before. I fell honoured. Did you gusy read that? I have a cute story ::happy smile:: Thanks for your review!

MadAboutHarry:- Do you really have to be insane to parent three children? ::waves at three children:: I am master of cliffhangers. Look, I've done it again! Heeeheeeheee. I don't think you heard the end of the conversation. Luckily there will be references to it later on as I hurridly adjust chapters for you! Thanks.

Tracey3:- Cliffhangers are evil aren't they. I dig them. Here, let me put you out of your misery with this chapter, and then fill you with misery again. Ta!

Sunflower18:- Here is your prize for shortest review ever. Thankyou for it! It made me giggle!

Sweet jane:- Delicous? Am I running a cookery fiction? Hehehe. Thanks for the idea. Hope you like this one as well! Sorry, your name should be at the top of the last chapter, but I have to repost it, and I haven't really got time right this moment, but I will sometime!

Gentileschi:- Funky name. Thanks. I shall seriously consider director as my future career move. My only problem is if I ever directed anything with various blokes in it, I would refuse to direct the kissy scenes. I would be too busy kissing them myself! I'm glad you think it has a plot, never mind a great one! Ta!

Paprika90:- ::grins:: we should start a mutual admiration society. Hope you managed to wait! Thanks.

Foxer:- ::round of applause:: you reviewed for every chapter! Now I have over 50 reviews! ::wild hugs:: I'm glad you liked my fiction, and I feel totally flattered that I'm on your fav. stories list. I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as you enjoyed the rest!

In case you haven't noticed, both this chapter and the last chapter have been dedicated to reviewers. I decided to make this a regular feature, because I think it's the nicest way to say thanks to the people who have helped me and supported me through their reviews. I feel important doing it as well. ::grins:: Obviously I can't dedicate every chapter to every reviewer, but I want you to know that I really appreciate all the reviews I get, even the people who don't review, but read anyway!

It's really great to get reviews, and it helps me manage my inbox as well so you have room in your folder! I just wanted to say thankyou to everyone, and if I missed you I'm sorry! I feel like I'm doing an Oscar speech, so I'll stop.

Oh my goodness me, we're now four pages long in size 10 font. I'll go away then. Thankyou very much! ::Elvis Presley style::


	10. An Unspeakable Argument

**All I need to get by**

****

Chapter Nine: _An Unspeakable Argument_

_A woman's friendship! God whom I trust in,_

_Forgive me this one foolish deadly sin,_

_Amongst my nay other, that I am_

_No more (I am sorry for so fond cause) say_

_At fifty years, almost, to value it_

_That ne'er was known to last above a fit!_

_Or have the least of good, but what it must_

_Put on for fashion, and take up on trust._

_Knew I all this afore? Had I perceived_

_That their whole life was wickedness, though weaved_

_Of many colours; outward, fresh from spots,_

_But their whole inside full of ends and knots?_

_Knew I that all their dialogues and discourse_

_Were such as I will now relate, or worse?_

Here something is wanting

_Knew I this woman? Yes; and do you see_

_How penitent I am, or should be!_

_Do not you ask to know her; she is worse_

_Than all the ingredients made into one curse,_

_And that poured out upon mankind, can be!_

_Think but the sin of all her sex, 'tis she!_

_I could forgive her for being proud, a whore,_

_Perjured, and painted, if she were no more:_

_But she is such, as she might yet forestall_

_The devil, and be the damning of us all._

By Ben Johnson, taken from The Underwood, and entitled '_A satirical Shrub'_, from the book '_Ben Johnson Poems'_

_Chapter dedicated to all my reviewers and readers who had to wait for three weeks_

Hermione Granger stood hesitantly at the door to the Top Floor office, one lip clasped firmly between her lower and upper teeth, her eyebrows denting a little. Brown eyes filled with worry, and her fingers twisted with the bag strap which lay over her shoulder. Draco Malfoy surveyed her with a cool indifference from the leather chair in which he sat, one eyebrow cocked slightly, eyes completely impassive.

'You're not allowed up here,' he said finally.

'It classified as a Department of Mysteries emergancy,' she spoke softly, nervously.

Draco's eyes narrowed slightly at the sound of the Department of Mysteries, and he rested his fingers on the leather arm rests, contemplating her visage silently for a moment.

'I feel honoured,' he said, the sarcasm in his voice barely noticeable.

Where once his blatant sarcasm had been his trademark, it fell away from him into a soft, sibilant, confusing kind of sarcasm. It confused everyone, and no-one could tell wether what he said was jest or not. Her eyebrows dipped in hurt momentarily.

'Such a pity it wasn't an emergancy to tell me you were going in the first place,' he picked the quill up between his fingers, and tuned back to the report.

Hermione felt odd tears well up in her throat, wakward and constricting. Her heart dropped down into her gall bladder in disappointment and hurt. Nethertheless she moved forward into the room and placed a hand on his shoulder.

'Didn't you get the message?' she asked simply.

'From _Potter_? Yes,' he answered curtly, and her eyebrows creased in confusion.

'Then I did tell you,' she said reasonably, and he span around so quickly that she had to take a hasty step backwards.

'I'm glad you think that's adequate,' he hissed, 'A message from _Potter_.'

'That's the way it works down there,' she said quietly.

'_What_?! Potter gets to know?'

'I don't understand,'

'Go and work it out know-it-all.'

Hermione regarded him with an air of hurt and confusion as he turned back to his desk and the report, but didn't write. She could feel the betrayal coming off him in great stabs, mixed with hurt and confusion.

'Draco, it's my _job_.'

'What? To tell Potter things and vanish off the surface of the earth?'

'I don't _vanish_, Draco. It's field work.'

'Planned trips more like it!' he snapped, 'That Potter knows about!'

'They aren't planned Draco,' she said, almost smiling in relief, 'I turn up at work and they have my bag packed, a checklist of what I'm meant to be doing and a portkey or apparation order.'

'Then why did _godfather_ know about it?!' he bellowed, sliding to his feet so that she had to crane upwards to see him.

'Severus knew he was going to a potion's conference, Draco. He's my covering civilian. To the rest of the world I'm a reclusive Potions pupil, with Snape as my mentor.'

'Then why didn't you know you were going to this conference?' screamed the male.

'Because no-one told me, Draco, until two minutes before I left!'

'Then why did _Potter_ know?!'

'Because as far as the Head of the Unspeakables knows there are two people who know what I am – Harry and Ron. Harry's my contact purely because aurors understand these things – the unpredictability of my work – and Ron's generally on field work himself with the auror squad! You're not meant to know because I was supposed to obliviate you when I left!'

There was stunned silence for a moment while Draco surveyed her with a mixture of confusion and horror.

'_Obliviate_ me?' he croaked out at last, 'Obliviate _me_?'

'Obliviate you. All memories of my face and my voice and my injuries. A nameless, genderless, uninjured Unspeakable drifts out of your ward and you're none the wiser. Like you weren't before.'

'Before?' he whsipered, and seemed to be more disturbed by this than was normal.

'You've seen every top Unspeakable in the last two years since you completed your training. At least fifteen.'

'This is all a joke?' he asked at last, sinking ashen faced to the seat below him.

'No. Why do you think all the Unspeakables know you when they arrive up here.'

'You were meant to obliviate me? Why didn't you?'

There was a long pause as Draco surveyed Hermione with a pale, weak face, eyes opened rather too wide to be attractive. Hermione swallowed once, blinked, and brushed a finger along the edge of her trousers.

'Because,' she replied, almost too softly for him to hear, 'Because I _owe_ you.'

She wasn't really telling the truth of course.

♠

Hermione Granger woke up at exactly half past six every morning. Today was slightly odd though, because the smell of sweat and sex filled the air, coupled with the scent of spicey, sophisticated aftershave. There was a heavy arm wrapped around her waist, and a hand curled protectively over her right breast. The gentle sounds of depp breathing perfumed the air around her. Cool cotton sheets were warm with body heat, tucked up to her waist and then abandoned. Shallow sunlight fell through the blinds of a flat she recognised as hers, and lay idily on the carpeted floor. There were a pair of her knickers on the light shade next to the bed.

Cautiously, so as not to wake Draco, who didn't get up for another hour at least (he, unlike her, was blessed with the gift many British teens develop and sustain through their lives, of being able to get washed and dressed in a remarkably fast amount of time due to barabaric starting times for education institutions) she slid from under the sheets and tucked them around him more firmly as he fidgeted at the loss of her body heat.

Her feet found slippers as she automatically reached for her dressing gown and draped it over herself, wandering out of the bedroom they occupied and into the kitchen area. The bowl of cereal was drenched in cold milk as she propped herself against the granite surfaces and chewed through the soggy, crisp mess of Weetabix Mini-Bites. The dish was neatly stored in the dishwasher and she moved into the bathroom to take an extroadinarily long shower.

By the time the warm water had had it's way with her, Draco was richoting off walls in his attempts to find the door, and sniffing unelegently. And yet she found it rather endearing when he cursed her flat for it's inability to have doors in the same place as his flat's doors were, and then promptly banged into the breakfast bar. She left him well alone in the morning, he was not a morning person as she had discovered the first day after he declared himself a temporary resident, and slipped into the bedroom again.

The Unspeakable uniform was flung over her chair, and she picked it up and pulled it on; the black jodhpers, black shirt and calf length supple dragon hide black boots. The dark cloak went on top, and her wand was strapped to her wrist, the other to her left wrist.

'Work?' asked Malfoy blearily, stumbling back into the bedroom in search of his black slacks, 'department of mysteries?'

'Oh yes,' replied the Unspeakable grimly, 'I need to have a little _conversation_ with my superiors.'

'Argument?' asked her lover, pulling on the trousers and zipping them up easily.

'Well, no,' she answered, 'More a talking to.'

'Ow.'

♠

The entire contingent of Unspeakables was assembled in the main meeting room, completely silent as they were presented with the analysis of 433's undercover work. Eyes in every different hue were completely fixed to the magical projection as the stuttering and nervous Research Team (slightly less than gifted with 'people' skills) pointed, proded, tripped over and generally showed the results. Black over robes had been cast on the edge of the chairs, and notes were being scribbled by Team Leaders. Only squad A – the elite – were missing their squadron head, who was at that precise moment storming rather calmly through the room of time.

'And this is where the ancient rhune of _barath_ can be se- Oh'

The old Unspeakable gave a little tremor of surprise as the door was flung backwards on it's hinges so fast it almost knocked 179 off his seat. A very furious, very female Unspeakable was standing there, a look of pure furious anger upon her pretty face.

'433' the head Unspeakable was first to speak, rising to his feet elegantly, 'You're not due back until tomorrow.'

'I know!' snarled Hermione, 'I've come to tell you I resign from field duty.'

The entire room, formerly silent, burst out into whispers and gossip like an exploding howler. The Head Unspeakable blinked, once, twice and again, sighed and began to reason with his best agent.

'I'm afraid 433 you won't be able to do that; you're my best officer and I need you on this case.'

'My hands aren't responding to treatment,' snapped Hermione, showing them the pale, dead hands. 'Even professor Snape cannot find anything to help them.'

'Your legilimancy is still useful,' came the sighed reply.

'I'm not interested in field work anymore.'

'I cannot allow you to resign because you fancy a inter department career change!'

'Fine!' shouted Hermione at last, 'You want the real reason I can't do field duty any more - because my mediwitch forbids me to!'

'Like every Unspeakable, Draco Malfoy is your medi_wizard_.'

'Do I look like any Unspeakable? Did you not notice the fact I have breasts and a female reproductary system?' Hermione's voice was steadily rising in volume, 'I have a mediwitch because I am a woman! And you may like to know that Draco Malfoy was not obliviated!'

'Not obliviated?!'

'I owed him a favour – and I want him to know what I am.'

'This can be discussed later, preferably tomorrow. Why can't you do fieldwork?'

'I'm bloody knocked up, alright?!' screamed the female agent.

There was stunned silence as Hermione left the room, slamming the door behind her so hard that a pulse of blue magic was seen around the edges.

Spluttering Area:-

Gah. I just re-read that. Gah. I know it was a bit confusing, but I have good excuses. I was under general anaesthetic for 45 minutes on Tuesday, with tubes up my throat (so now I have issues swallowing) and a grommet in my ear. How lucky am I. Just re-read it carefully. It makes sense second time around!

Ckrfan:- Yeah, but could they make up for the prolonged absence outside of my fiction so I don't get kicked off fanfiction? Sorry, no desk shags here. You could write a whole story made up of summaries! Thanks.

HPROXMYSOX:- I'm a dude. How special am I. Sorry you had to wait! Thanks!

Sweet jane:- marvelous is good. Very good. ::pats head:: Now not only Ginny is pregnant! Dundundun…

Innocentrose:- For me that was a big cliffie. Well, no cliffie here. Thanks for your review!

Paprika90:- Ever thought you might be reading too much Agatha Christie for your own good? I mean, you're ruining the plot for yourself. ::grin:: Right, first meeting of the Mutual Admiration Society tomorrow, okay? ::laughs:: In fact, let's make it continuous – mutual admiration every day.

Foxer:- No, I don't update regularly. I'm good like that. Especially when I'm on holdiay for the next three weeks. Whoops, probably shouldn't have told you that! Sleeping Dragons Die comes from something my mate serenely said to me when I was really angry, 'Let sleeping dragons lie,' and I said, 'duh, if sleeping dragons were left to lie, thousands of knights would kill them.' He didn't speak to me for at least a week. It just kind of evolved from that – and various bits of Celtic mythology derived from my real name. Note put in 3 weeks later: whoops.

MadAboutHarry:- ::nervous laughter:: was three weeks soon? I'm rather fond of jealous Draco as well, but I quite like hissy fit Draco so I had to squeeze him in.

Tracy3:- Mean, me? Blame my parents, they dragged me off to Southern Ireland for three weeks to be rained on and covered in mud the whole way upto the top of my jeans. Aaah, the joys of being Irish. Sorry you had to wait.

**SORRYSORRYSORRYSORRYSORRYSORRYSORRYSORRY**

I'm really sorry this chapter took so long to update, I've been on holiday for two weeks in S. Ireland and one week in Somerset, so I haven't seen a computer for almost a month. Please forgive me.


	11. Baby 434

**All I need to get by**

****

Chapter Nine: _Baby 434_

_I have done one braver thing_

_Than all the Worthies did,_

_And yet a braver thence does spring,_

_Which is, to keep that hid._

_It were but madness now t'impart_

_The kill of specular stone,_

_When he which can have learned the art_

_To cut it, can find none._

_So if I should now utter this,_

_Others (because no more_

_Such stuff to work upon, there is,)_

_Would love but as before._

_But he who lovlieness within_

_Hath found, all outward loathes,_

_For he who colour loves, and skin,_

_Loves but their oldest clothes._

_If, as I have, you also do_

_Virtue attired in woman see,_

_And dare love that, and say so too,_

_And forget the He and She;_

_And if this love, though placed so,_

_From profane men you hide,_

_Which will no faith on this bestow,_

_Or, if they do, deride;_

_Then you have done a braver thing_

_Than all the Worthies did,_

_And a braver thence will spring,_

_Which is, to keep that hid._

By Donne Jon

_This chapter is for my extra clever friends (or at least the ones sad enough to 'do' fanfiction) because they rock; Bunni, Fiona (who has four periods of maths on a Monday morning, don't you feel sorry for her?) and all the others who know who they are (and have lives), and have been used as ammunition in the running battle of the grades between He-Who-Must-Be-Exterminated_

It was the Autumn Half Term Holidays when Draco Malfoy realised something was slightly wrong with his relationship with Unspeakable 433. St Mungo's was busy – Weasley Wizarding Wheezes had brought out a new range of minitaure animals and several new food stuffs for the holidays, and apparantly what the deigned as safe, was less safe than brutal. The animals (which included miniature griffins, thestrals, and hippogriffs) were designed 'to aid in classes' and in fact merely savaged parchment, and then moved onto their owners. Although Fred and George Weasley had summoned all the animals in, apparantly a few remained.

Autumnal sunshine sprinkled in through the windows, and outside in London even the Plane Trees were dropping their leaves. Window boxes had given up and died, and even the St Mungo indoor plants seemed to be panting a bit oddly. Hogwarts students all over Great Britain were lying back and relaxing in the last vestiges of sunshine, and Severus Snape had arrived that morning by floo in Draco's office. Although he had been greeted by an empty room, he had made himself at home. Draco himself had been sent down to Accidental Magical Maladies; the wizarding equivalent of Acident and Emergancy, to help with the onslaught of school children. Broken appendages were a firm favourite of the students; after all, quidditch could be practised freely outside of school teams.

'Thankyou very much, Healer,' a rather harassed looking mother swept her child away, scolding him firmly.

'Oh,' was the Healer's absent minded reply, 'That's alright.'

'Are you alright Malfoy?' asked another, older Healer, 'You're not exactly focused.'

'You worry about the fact that your patient's turning yellow and swelling up!' snapped Malfoy aggressively, and pressed the button summoning his next patient in.

Draco was rather shocked to see Ginny Weasley stumble into the cubicle. Her red hair was standing almost on end where it escaped from the yellow bandana she wore to keep it in place, and her blue eyes were ringed with dark shadows. She wore no makeup, her her pregnancy overalls stretched out in front of her. She was due in around three weeks. She was tugging by the hand one very grumpy, indignant, red-headed five year old, whose eyes were rimmed red with tears, and whose other arm was hanging at an odd angle.

'Oh Merlin,' she groaned, planting herself firmly in the chair, 'Malfoy, please fix him.'

'No!' said the toddler furiously, and made a bee-line for the door as quick as his thin legs could carry him.

'Alfie!' moaned Ginny, preparing to haul herself up from the chair, but Draco motioned for her to stop.

'I'll get him, you stay there.'

Alfie, as his name apparantly was, was in rather a hurry to escape St Mungos, and fortunately for Draco took a wrong turn. The toddler moved faster than the Healer expected, and Draco wound up having to break into an undignified shuffle, and then a full out run. Dodging a witch with several hands sprouting out of her head, he cursed the small boy.

'Alfie!' he called as the toddler slowed to a halt at a cross ways, 'Alfie!'

Within three feet of the child Draco allowed a victorious smile to break onto his face, and felt it deflate as quickly as a balloon being attacked by an army of staples as Alfie set off at a quick run down the corridor leading to Maternity.

'_Accio_ Alfie!' he heard a voice call, and the child was jerked sideways and up the corridor.

Hermione Granger was standing with the sweaty child clasped firmly in her arms, dressed only in the black uniform of the Unspeakables minus the light cloak. She was smiling as she played peekaboo with him, and the mediwitch next to her nodded, smiled and patted her on the arm. It was a very maternal scene, and Draco suddenly felt very lonely and distant, and felt something jerk in his soul.

'Hermione!' called Draco, slowing to a stroll as he reached her, 'What are you doing in here?'

'Oh,' Hermione floundered for a moment, pretending to be absorbed in Alfie, 'Asking questions about a witch that checked in earlier this month about magical block ups.'

'In the Maternity section?'

'I just, uh, called in to see an old friend. And found ickle Alfie, what are dou dooing 'ere den Alfie-Walfie?'

'Ginny Weasley brought him in. He's broken his arm.'

'Ginny? What on earth's Ginny doing with Alfie? She's almost nine months pregnant!'

'Isn't he hers?'

'He's five years old, Draco. She's only been out of school for four.'

'I assumed,' Draco said icily, 'That she and Potter jumped the gun a bit.'

'No!' Hermione sounded scandalized, 'He's George's son, aren't you Alfie-Walfie?'

'Then what is Ginny doing with George's son?'

'We shall find out,' said Hermione determindly, and marched towards the ward containing Ginny.

They didn't only find Ginny. In fact they found several mediwizards and a mediwitch gathered around a slightly damp Weasley, who was crying hysterically. Her waters had broken; three weeks early.

'Ginny!' cried Hermione, thrusting herself through the small crowd, 'Ginny, are you alright?'

'Ssssh,' said Draco, appearing behind her, 'She'll be fine.'

'Did you get Alfie?' asked Ginny, wincing slightly.

'Yes, yes, we got Alfie. Shall we take him back to George?'

'Good god no!' bellowed the younger girl, 'George's at the factory for two days – I'm looking after Alfie.'

'While you have this baby?' inquired the Healer currently preparing to take her up to the Maternity section.

'Hermione,' besmirched Ginny, gazing at her friend tearfully, 'Would you look after Alfie for me? Please?'

'I'm working Ginny – can't I take him somewhere else?'

'Please Hermione – I know you have today off.'

'Fine! I'll floo Harry as well, shall I?'

'You're wonderful.'

'I thought you were working today? Ginny said you had today off.'

'Yes, well, just catching up on some things. I'll take Alfie home now, and see you later.'

Draco malfoy gawped a little at the space where Hermione had stood upto a few seconds ago, and turned to deman answers off Ginny, but she was gone – tandom apparated by the maternity Healer. Sighing, he pressed the buzzer to let the next patient through.

♣

'Alfie! Please, please put that egg down – Oh Alfie.'

Severus Snape followed his godson into a scene of apparent domestic not-bliss. Hermione was sitting on a stool in the kitch, Alfie chuckling gleefully on her lap as he stuck his small hands into a mixing bowl and waved them around merrily. There was a smashed egg dripping down Hermione's leg, and flour decorating the counter tops. Raisins were scattered in a small trail from the edge of the livingroom to the kitchen, and Crookshanks was following it neatly, snaffling up the dried grapes as he did so.

'And I thought my quarters were a mess,' commented the reputedly unorganised potion's master.

Hermione looked up quickly, a smile on her lips, and slid off the stool, poping the smallest Weasley on the kitchen floor, where he decided to stick his pudgy hands in the egg.

'Hello Severus,' she greeted, 'No! Alfie!'

It was too late, Alfie had walked straight into the edge of Draco's red robes, and had wrapped his small arms around the blond man's legs. He was a very friendly child, and probably fully aware of the mess he was making.

'Alfie!' she scolded, scooping the child up, 'Why don't you go and clean yourself up Draco.'

'Here, I'll take Alfie and we can clean up together. I'm sure I can shrink some clothes.'

Hermione watched as Draco took Alfie by the hand and hoisted him off, discussing seriously with him the merits of red t-shirts over blue robes. Alfie grinned delightedly as he proudly informed the man carrying him he had seven red t-shirts but no blue robes, and chortled as he walloped Draco softly around the ear to make him go faster. Severus on the other hand was watching Hermione as a whimsical smile touched her face. She snapped out of it when the potion's master hrmphed, and waved her wand to clean herself and the surrounding area up.

'He'll make a good father some day,' she said by way of exclamation as she surrupticously threw Alfie's mixture down the bin and magiced up a new one so as not to disappoint the child.

'Some day?' Severus smirked, 'In about seven months surely?'

Hermione whirled around and dropped the glass of pumpkin juice she was carrying all over the floor, staring at him increduously even as the juice soaked her jeans. Severus smirked even harder.

'Or perhaps eight,' he offered casually, 'I imagine seven and a half though.'

'How – what – what are you talking about?'

'The child you are carrying. _Reparo_,' the glass flew back up into Hermione's hand and she grapsed it tightly. 'The one you've known about for exactly three weeks, since you came back from that potion's conference with me. Your last field duty.'

'How – How did you know?' she stammered increduously.

'What, apart from the pregnancy potion I slipped you in that first glass of pumpkin juice? I had to check you know, just in case. Why do you think I didn't let you near the toxic fumes?'

'Because they're toxic?' she asked, knowing she sounded a bit stupid. 'You've damn well known about this longer than I have!'

'I assumed you knew,' he frowned, 'And were playing coy. Of course, I realised that you weren't after the trip. But then you went to see a medi-witch, didn't you? You were at one today. Draco said he'd seen you in the maternity ward, said you were saying hello to a few friends. But I know you don't say hello to friends while you're working.'

'Fine,' she sounded petulant, 'I did the home test as soon as I came home from the field trip – run of the mill, standard test I do once a month. I never trust anything when I've come into contact with spells at work. It read posotive, and I didn't believe it. I buried my head in the sand and hoped it would go away. I didn't again the next day, and it showed posotive again. I had to tell my boss I couldn't do field work again, and then I booked this check-up and confirmation at St. Mungo's. I didn't realise Draco would be coming down!'

'Maybe the _shihab's_ spell counteracted the potion.'

'I don't think so – it would have done it much sooner. Draco and I have been together for almost eleven months now.'

'Of course,' Severus answered absantly, 'Don't cry Hermione.'

It was too late; Hermione had dissolved into tears, and was leaning against the counter for support. Severus moved forward slightly, and awkwardly laid his hand on her shoulder in a gesture of comfort.

'Oh, what's the use!' she sniffled into his chest once she had thrown herself at him in a wild hug, 'He won't want such a drag! Imagine what he'll say!'

'I think, Hermione,' answered Severus, 'that you've been doing a bit too much imagining. Maybe you should actually find out.'

'Great idea, Severus!' she hurled at him, relising him at the sound of Alfie's excited clamours from just outside the kitchen door.

'Right, go and show auntie Hermione your new blue robes,' came Draco's teasing voice, and both boys baralled through the door.

Draco was dressed in tight jeans which Hermione had brought him for his birthday, and a v-neck sweater. Holding his hand and bounding alongside him came Alfie, in a pair of pale ice blue robes with silver silk inside. Draco just shrugged at Severus' incredulous look.

'Hermione?' Draco sounded concerned and, something in his voice was frightened, but 'Are you alright? You've been crying.'

'I'm fine,' Hermione whimpered, and held her arms out to Alfie, who began clammering all about bathrooms, and baths, and Draco, and wardrobes, and blue robes.

'Hermione?' came a strange, echoing noise throughout the flat, and Hermione almost dropped Alfie as she rushed out into the livingroom and sank to her knees in front of the fireplace. Harry Potter's head was dancing in it.

'Harry! How's Ginny? How's the baby? How're you?'

'I'm fine, Ginny's fine, and the baby's a boy. But you don't look so good.'

'Oh, I'm alright. That's wonderful! I would hug you!'

'Ginny wants you to be the first one apart from us to hold him. We haven't told the Weasleys yet, so you better hurry up. Bring M-Draco, Ginny wants him here as well.'

'One moment! Draco, come on – we're going to st Mungo's! Severus, be an angel and look after Alfie,' and with that hurried request she seized Draco by the hand and tandem apparated them away.

The room was perfectly quiet, and tranquil. Ginny was lying on three pillows, tired but beaming with pride. Harry was standing at the end of the bed, holding his wife's hand with one of his own, and staring entranced into a small, cloudy glass box as if it held the answers to the universe within it.

'Ginny,' Hermione spoke very softly, and came closer to hug her friend tightly, 'Oh Ginny!'

'Hold him Hermione,' Ginny certainly sounded tired, and her voice was hoarse but she was frightfully determined, 'Harry, please.'

Harry didn't say anything, but the dazed look on his face said it all as he reached into the glass box and carefully drew out a tiny lump covered in white blankets. Very carefully, and smoothing a single tuft of black hair away from the edge of the blanket, he placed the baby into his best friend's arms.

Hermione cried almost immediantly. He was so light and fragile, and all she could think about was him and her own tiny baby. Her eyes burned and she very carefully blinked the tears back so that they fell down her cheeks instead of onto the little baby.

'He's beautiful,' she breathed, and felt rather than saw Draco looming over her shoulder.

'Oh gods Hermione,' choked out Harry, in a kind of dreadful voice, 'Hermione.'

Hermione didn't hesitate. Harry had the haunted look in his eyes that spoke about a horrible knowledge that he was going to be a perfectly inadequate father, probably his son would hate him and he just needed his best friend. She handed the tiny baby straight over to Draco (very carefully though) and enveloped Harry in an enormous hug. Ginny watched them with a serene smile.

Draco couldn't understand what was happening to him. Nestled in the crook of his woolen clad arm was a tiny baby playing havoc with his heart. He stared captivated as one tiny green eye opened, and fuzzily gazed past him. The other remained shut, and soon the baby seemed to deem there was nothing of importance happening and closed the other eye. Tears burned in the back of Draco's throat, and he knew it was cliché, and there was nothing he wanted to do about it.

In his mind flashed an image of Hermione lying where Ginny lay now, and a tiny baby of his own – with thick, fuzzy blond hair – and he had to shake his eyes to dispel it. A hand floated into view, and the baby automatically curled it's tiny fingers around Hermione's ring finger while Harry and Ginny held each other.

'It would have atrocious hair,' he whispered, not quite knowing why.

Hermione didn't answer, and Harry appeared by them a moment later. Draco transferred the baby easily, but kept his eyes on it, until Harry thanked him.

'Nice hairstyle, he's got,' offered the blond, 'And, well, thanks for letting me hold him.'

'Come on Draco,' Hermione tugged his hand gently, and lef him out into the corridor.

It was the same place as he had seen her with Alfie, and he almost wanted to cry. She took his hands and pressed them together, and then dropped the right one. The left she placed on her lower stomach, and watched as a frown passed his face. Realistation started to dawn on him.

'We'll just have to invest in a lot of hairbrushes,' she said softly, and he knew she had remembered his comment abut hair.

'Oh Hermione,' he breathed erratically, and held her very tightly in his arms.

When they got back they discovered Severus had transfigured the coffee table into a trainset for Alfie, and was sitting on the floor eating jam sandwiches with the tiny tot.

Severus flashed Draco a knowing grin as he very carefully settled Hermione down on the sofa, and fussed around her. Alfie ran the train over Severus's foot several times repeatedly and made choo-choo noises while informing the potion's master in a loud and bossy tone of voice that when he was older he was going to drive a real train over him, but not hurt him, and was that alright? Severus merely nodded, and removed the train engine from his slightly battered hand.

Chortle Time:-

::sniffs:: I know you probably think that it's a bit dumb to put Severus in there, but, man, it was so cutsie-wutsie. Sorry! Thanks for all the reviews I got – they really cheered me up.

By the way, I just got my GCSE results – and now have 11 qualifications. Do I rock or what?

Miss3y:- Well, I'm glad you found that girlishly amusing. Thanks for your review – which I giggled along to.

Sweet Beatrix a.k.a Sweet Jane:- Well, he knows now… You didn't have to wait long this time! Ta!

Rae:- Updated soon as requested, thanks for the review.

MadAboutHarry:- ::petulant sigh:: It wasn't meant to be clear, it's a literary device that I'm currently playing with. Because it's disproved later on that it's the 'morning after', you can take a guess how long it was. It was actually about four months later… I can't believe you're caught up in back to school stuff already! Nahnahnah, I have another two weeks ::sticks tongue out:: Okay, that was mature. Ta!

Tracy3:- I think you were the only one who though H pregnant was a surprise. Never mind though, it was meant to be. ::giggles:: maybe I need to work at concealing things a bit. Thanks for your review (and surprise)!

Foxer:- I deeply resent that, this was a quick update…hehehe. Yeah, send me all the annoying emails you want, as long as they can be used for excuses as to my lack of essays?

NitenGale:- Thanks for forgiving me! One update your ladyship.

Jean jelly bean:- (who wins the award for coolest name this chapter) Greetings. Actually I didn't write anything while I was away – I read 48 books instead ::winning grin:: Soon enough for you?

What do you think of Alfie people? I thought he was cute. He's based on my little-est cousins; they insist my brother is an evil X-Man and has to be wacked soundly. Awww, but they're so cute it's alright if they bash my brother…


	12. Never in the Field of Human Conflict

**All I need to get by**

****

Chapter Ten: Never In The Field of Human Conflict

_Never in the field of human conflict has so much been owed by so many to so few_

_Winston Churchill_

_Dedicated to everyone out there called Nigel, or Lancelot…_

'Do I look fat in this?' asked Hermione Granger, sighing as she did so.

She was standing in front of a gilded frame mirror propped against the bedroom wall of her flat, her hands on her hips as she surveyed herself. The black dress she was wearing stretched a little tightly across her slightly rounded midriff, but it was hardly noticeable to anyone except Hermione.

'In fact,' she continued crossly, 'Don't answer that. I look fat in everything.'

'I shouldn't worry too much dearie,' replied the mirror anyway, 'It'll get worse later on.'

'Was that meant to be comforting?' snapped the irate Unspeakable, 'Because it wasn't you know. Why on earth did I agree to a magic mirror?'

'Because you went through a phase of saying 'mirror mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all',' Draco's voice drifted from the bathroom where he was dabbing aftershave onto his smooth cheek.

'Oh shutup!' the disagreeable girl snapped in some amusement, sitting on the edge of the bed to do the straps on her shoes a little tighter.

'Are you ready yet?' the impeccable Draco emerged from the bathroom completely ready, his top shirt button open, the jacket casually thrown across one shoulder as he checked his watch.

'Just about to be late!' chimed the watch unhelpfully, and Malfoy rolled his eyes at it.

'Yes,' Hermione said at last, spraying on a cloud of muggle perfume. 'Let's go.'

'Have a nice time!' drifted out from the mirror at the same time the watch chimed, 'fashionably late!'

'Right, where are we going again?' Hermione rubbed her bump absently, hoping she didn't splinch herself.

'Black Abbey Courtroom,' her boyfriend answered, 'Don't you dare splinch yourself.'

'I have done this before,' she snapped, and vanished with a small pop.

Rolling his eyes Draco followed, a sauve smile already fixed to his handsome face. The apparation took, as was usual, only a few seconds before he was standing in the apparation point of the Black Abbey Courtroom. Hermione was standing to one side, bent over slightly as she tried to breathe easily, one hand on the shoulder of Harry Potter, whose face radiated concerned apprehension.

'Potter,' drawled Malfoy arrogantly, 'Get your hands off my girlfriend.'

'You shouldn't have let her apparate,' Harry said complacently, completely ignoring the annoyance Draco caused him, 'She's four months pregnant you numbskull.'

'Don't tell me what to do about my girlfriend!' the blonde sneered hotly, eyes creasing into a glare.

'Oh shut up both of you,' snapped Hermione, 'Where's Ginny?'

'Looking after Nigel,' Harry responded gloomily, 'He has colic.'

'I still don't know why you called him Nigel,' Hermione tutted, 'I thought you were all for Lancelot or something.'

'Merlin Hermione!' Harry's shocked face looked down at her, 'Lancelot? You and Draco can call you baby stupid names if you want to, but Ginny and I refuse to.'

'You mean,' interjected Draco, musing over baby names briefly, 'That Ginerva wanted to call him something normal, and you gave in.'

Harry looked slightly sheepish. Hermione gave her partner a very warning, slightly amused glance, and took his profurred arm. She wished they hadn't agreed to go to this charity ball, but such was life.

'I love you,' she whispered to him softly as they exited the apparation point, and he nodded stiffly.

The first time she had told him she loved him he had said nothing, and carried on waving his wand aroun to try and rearrange the furniture. He turned awkward when she told him that – stiff and unreceptive, but she carried on anyway. She knew he loved her, but it would have been nice to have heard it as well.

'Count Draco Malfoy, and miss Hermione Granger,' announced the door boy, and they were swept into a dazzling world of low lighting and champagne fountains.

'Damn it Draco,' Hermione hissed quite suddenly, 'I need a drink.'

'You can't have a drink,' Draco answered, nodding politely to the Minister of Magic, Joseph Antonio. 'Good evening minster.'

'Count Malfoy,' simpered his wife before Antonio had a chance to say anything, 'How lovely to see you.'

Draco felt Hermione stiffen suddenly on his arm, and was willing to bet that she was swinging into protective mood again. Had she been a tiger she would have been snarling. Maybe the drink would have been a good idea.

'Draco's just going to get me a drink,' she forced out, 'Aren't you Draco?'

'Yes, I think we should,' Draco said hastily, giving the Minister a apologetic smile, which he returned with a raise of his eyebrows – amused.

'Oh no, darling,' Hermione was being Difficult, 'You go, mrs Antonio and I just have to have a chat about that adorbale blouse she's wearing.'

Draco risked a glance at Mrs Minister, as the Daily Prophet had daubed her. She was wearing a prissy, high necked blouse with purple embroidery up one sleeve, and at least seventeen strings of pearls. Her highly botoxed bosum peered out of them. He knew from experience that Hermione was lying. The older woman was simpering slightly.

'Minister,' Draco stabbed bravely, 'won't you come and have a champagne?'

'Oh no,' Cornelia Antonio simpered, 'Darling, you promised you would stay with me. We hardly ever see each other,' she added, apparantly to Draco, with a flirty look from under her eyelashes, in an undertone.

'Draco, I really need a drink,' Hermione pressed three fingers upto her temple in a melodramatic manner, and the blonde Slytherin went, casting anxious looks over his shoulder until he was accosted by a French dignitary.

'Mrs Antonio,' began Hermione sweetly, closing her fingers over the other woman's hand, which tightly clutched a glass of red wine, 'That's such a pretty blouse, where did you get it?'

'Oh,' the former Hufflepuff smiled back, guilessly, 'From Bicester.'

'Really?' gushed Hermione, 'Oh _no_!'

The Mrs Minister gave a little scream of surprise and horror than nobody really paid any attention to as the glass was mentally leviated out of her hand. Hermiones hands held hers tightly as she watched in fake surprise the glass which her mental powers moved. The glass tipped slowly over the blouse, and Mrs Minister gave another tiny scream, and a gasping sob. The wine trickled down her botoxed bosum.

'Pregnant moodswings,' offered Hermione, desperately dabbing at the blouse a bit harder than was necessary, 'I'm terribly sorry – my magic swings as well, and the baby just seems to amplify them…so sorry, really, so sorry.'

'Don't worry miss Granger,' came the haunted tones of the minister as he withdrew his wand to clean up the mess, 'We sympathise.'

Mrs Minister was doing anything but sympathise. Her piggy eyes were glaring at Hermione while she squeked and snuffled, mouth twisted in anger. Hermione gave her a condescending, sympathetic look and released her hands, at the same time releasing the wine glass so that it toppled from the air and over the bufant hairstyle the older woman was sporting.

'Oh!' she gasped again, 'I'm so sorry – perhaps I should go and get a drink.'

She left the almost hysterical woman behind her and sauntered over to where Draco was watching in horrified animation from over the shoulder of his aunt Andromeda. Mrs Minister was shrieking now, and her husband was escorting her from the hall to reaffix the wig which had toppled from her head.

'Hello madame,' she murmured to the aunt, and took the glass of fruitjuice Draco was holding, 'Dear me, imagine Mrs Minister wearing a wig – how awful.'

'I know, I know,' assured the gossipy Andromeda, 'What a calamity.'

'She did it to herself you know,' Hermione innocently sipped at the juice, 'Her husband looked at that madame Artescant for a second and she tipped the glass over her to get his attention back. Simply awful.'

'Is that true dear?' asked Andromeda, her pale eyes gleaming, 'Well, well.'

'Oh yes,' the young woman assured her, 'I think it must be an awful marriage.'

'Well, it was nice to talk to you miss Granger, Draco, but I really must go and see the Marquis Depoil,' and with that she hurried over to the stylish woman to begin a humungous gossip session.

'Hermione,' growled Draco, fixing a small smile to his features, 'You are simply awful. How could you? At a charity function?'

'Maybe your Slytherin side is rubbing off on me. You aren't cross with me, are you? The baby makes me overprotective,' she adjusted the gloves covering her shriveled hands and smiled up at him.

'No, no of course not,' he melted as Harry wandered over, carrying a gin and tonic.

'Did you hear about Mrs Minster?' he asked cluelessly, 'Apparantly her marriage is falling apart and her husband's having an affair with a marquis – that's why she tipped the wine over herself.'

Hermione smirked at Draco, and rolled her eyes at Harry.

'Oh Harry,' she gushed, 'How could you say such things?'

'Lady DuLac whispered it to me,' said naïve Harry, shrugging.

'Good evening mister Potter, Count Malfoy,' came a sudden voice from behind them with a heavy Bulgariran accent cleverly masked by amplified voice training and a few spells, 'vhat a pleasure.'

The man who had addressed them looked to be about three years older than the three standing in a semicircle. His face was slightly haggard, and his hair grizzled with grey but cut neatly. Brown eyes peered out at them from behind black framed thin glasses. He had an average build, and was dressed in a pale beige suit with a blue sash across his waist, marking him out as a Bulgarian dignitary.

'Good evening sir,' Draco was perfectly calm and collect, 'I'm afraid I haven't made your aquaintance.'

'A matter soon remodied,' the Bulgarian man said, holding out his hand to Draco to shake. 'My name is Nicholas Krum. I believe you are in contact wiv my brother, Viktor.'

'Viktor!' Harry started excitedly, 'Yes, yes. Such a pity about the accident.'

'He is happy wiv his early retirement. He has made enough money to last him vell I believe. No doubt he vill be meddling around soon,' he did not sound at all piteous about his brother, speaking of him in rather a cold manner.

'No, no,' said the rather dazed Harry, 'I doubt very much it will keep him down.'

'He has plans to come over to Britain this summer,' volunteered Hermione, recalling her last letter.

Nicholas Krum ignored her completely; did not even give her the common courtesy of nodding in awknowledgement of her statement. He passed a rather cold brown eye over her and turned to Draco. Hermione narrowed her eyes, and gripped her glass a little tighter.

'Count Malfoy,' he began, 'Haff you any interest in the politics of your country?'

'Not particularly,' answered Draco honestly, drawling as he sipped his champagne, 'I haven't the patience to sit in an office all day.'

'Oh,' Nicholas sounded surprised, 'I vas told you vere developing an interest in it.'

'I wonder who could have told you that,' sighed the younger man, 'I honestly have no time for it.'

'That is most strange,' the Bulgarian ruminated, 'I am sure I had heard it.'

'I doubt you hear anything, you brain is so full of idiocy,' snarled Hermione under her breath.

At last Krum turned to her fully. His voice was very cold when he spoke, and Harry unconciously shivered.

'In my country whores do not speak to their betters,' he growled, 'Vatch you tongue girl.'

'Oh,' Hermione defensively snapped, 'Whore am I?'

'Vell, you vear no ring, and have the stomach of von vith child – a bastard child,' Nicholas added carelessly, 'You had better be careful or you vill end up in trouble…'

His voice trailed away into nothing, and he wrinkled his large nose with disdain. Draco Malfoy acted very quickly. His arm clamped down suddenly on her shoulders so that her knees almost buckled, and he stepped in front of her at the same time.

'Mister Krum, the child is mine, I would thank you to keep your mouth shut on matters of which you know nothing, or you _will_ find yourself missing several limbs come morning. Hermione, come with me _now_.'

He steered her rather forcefully over to a large wing backed chair standing on the edge of the floor, and stood over her while she drank he glass of pineapple juice he had forced upon her. Tucking a careless curl behind her ear he smiled at her.

'Don't try and blame the baby for that one,' he rebuked gently, 'You ought not to have provoked him.'

'He treated me like dirt Draco,' she gasped, clearly on the edge of a moodswing straight into tears, 'because I didn't have a bloody big stone on my finger.'

'Wizarding systems are archaic,' explained the blonde man, rubbing a finger over her cheek, 'You had better get used to it.'

Hermione felt as if she had been stabbed with a rusty chainsaw, straight through her soul. _You had better get used to it_ echoed through her head repeatedly. He clearly had no intentions of marrying her – she had obviously mistaken his lack of declarations of love; he did not love her. He never would. Her Unspeakable instincts took over in a simple swing. She forced the tears bubbling behind her eyes back and stood up rather suddenly, almost knocking him backwards.

Posted around the hall were faces she recognised briefly, and they were not meeting her eye. Out of the uniform of black, only one Unspeakable could _recognise_ another. Dressed in suits with aurors on their arms – or at least she assumed they were aurors, the average Unspeakable, for all his mistique and danger was no more attractive to nosey women than a small poodle – they remained stiff.

'Draco,' she said quietly, 'something's going on. There are at least four squads of Unspeakables here.'

Draco glanced around carefully, unwilling to attract attention.

'Stay there,' he instructed her quietly, 'I do not want you causing anymore trouble. I shall go and ask Nympharandria if she knows what's going on.'

'She'd better – she's got the Head Unspeakable on her arm.'

'Stay in that chair,' instructed the young man forcefully, patting her harder than he necessarily should have on the arm, 'Don't move.'

'What, not even to mingle?' grumbled Hermione under her breath as he strode away to his cousin.

A low laugh made her start from her sulky surveying of the floor. The man in turn surveying her was a young man of around thirty five, with muddy brown hair of a medium quality, and muddy brown eyes. He was wearing traditional robes of black, with a high collar and yellow trim. Next to him stood a smaller man, half bent over, thinning to bald on his head with nervous darting eyes.

'Good evening miss Granger,' the older man said in a resonate voice, smiling an easy grin.

'Good evening,' she replied, and got to her feet.

He clasped her small hand in his large ones, and bowed slightly. His hands were warm and slightly damp, tight around her wrist. A tiny bubble of anxiety rose in her guts and popped as she noticed Draco gesticulating wildly to his cousin, who was shaking her head. The smaller man was darting his head around to watch them too, and a little smile of satisfaction graced his face.

'Sire,' the small man cried out in a shrill, annoying voice and a feeling of fear shuddered through Hermione as she almost fought to release her hands, 'We should go!'

'I feel that would be prudent,' the grip on her hands tightened so that she cried out suddenly, and the smaller man grasped her other wrist.

Draco watched in horror from the other side of the room as Hermione struggled noisily for a millisecond, and the older man bend over her and pressed something to her forehead – one of his papery fingers. There was no flash of thunder as the feeling of dread and horror swept over the room, rendering almost everyone on their knees crying furiously. Draco fought back the rising nausea and took a step forehead.

Hermione's depsairing eyes met his, and she opened her mouth to scream. No sound emerged in the Hall as they vanished, fading away slowly, tantalizingly.

Draco ran forward suddenly, and stretched his hands out to where Hermione had been. His hands hit the cold bareness of the stone floor as he crashed to it, and around the room Unspeakables blinked and moved forward into a ring, surrounding him until he felt suffocated.

Dear reader, you will understand the nausea and terror in the room when I tell you that the events of the last three paragraphs took place a few seconds after eleven, and lasted approximately three seconds. The time of the _shihads_ had once again struck the Wizarding World.

Explaining Paragraph:-

There are approximately two more action packed (well, kinda) chapters following this instalment, and an epilogue. This does depend principally on the amount of work I have to suffer, so blame my lovely teachers when updating becomes less frequant. Unforetunately, I am not allowed to present All I Need To Get By as an English essay – darn it all. So tell me what you think – did you like Hermione's violent moodswings? Teehee.

Tracy3:- You'd better learn some patience, because I have a feeling you'll be waiting for the one after this, even if I didn't make you wait too long for this one! Thankye kindly.

MadAboutHarry:- I think I may have to develop this side of Severus – I believe he might make a very good babysitter for just about anyone who smiles prettily enough at him (the baby that is) and runs him over enough. Imagine the embarassment when Severus takes great delight in reminding Alfie on his first day of term…

Sunflower18:- I'm glad it was cute. Thanks!

Miss3y:- If that's hyper, I hope you get hyper more often! Ta v much!

Rae:- Calm down, and keep breathing. You're worrying me. Unforetunately parenthood is just a side plot, although it is fast becoming a completely different story! Thanks for your enthusiastic review.

Sweet Beatrix:- Oh, I have a feeling that if I develop Alfie he will me mischief personified. Was that good fluff? Well, I'm glad it was. What did you think about pregnant Hermione?

Nitengale:- No, you weren't at all rude. Silly you. I may be able to loan you Alfie, but only if you review again…What on EARTH were you doing reviewing at one in the morning? Honestly, it's not _that_ good. Thanks!

Obbsesive:- I kind of get the similarities between this and friends, and kind of not. At all. Never mind! I don't think Draco would cry, or at least not yet. Maybe the chapter after next…Thankye!

Foxer:- I asked if I could use your emails, but everybody said no. Was this a soon update? I can never tell. Thankye.

Jean jelly bean:- Some of my favourites were 'Women in Love' by D H Laurence, 'To The Lighthouse' by Virginia Woolf, 'The Scandel of Grace' by Selwyn Hughes, 'The No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency' etc etc. I was away for three and a half weeks, playing bridesmaid and getting covered in mud. Oh, and all the Chales Dickens. 'Words, glorious wo-o-ords,' yes, well. Ta!

P.S. I apologise if your name is Nigel, it's a cool name really, I just like abusing it. ::guilty shrugs:: and technically the stats are wrong; if you have a weird name yourself, you're more likely to call your child something weird, but never mind. So technically Harry should have wanted to call the baby something weird etc etc. Never mind. And Lancelot is not weird – it rocks!


	13. Has So Much been Owed

**All I need to get by**

****

Chapter Eleven: Has so Much Been Owed

_Never in the field of human conflict has so much been owed by so many to so few_

_Winston Churchill_

Hermione landed on a hard stone floor with a crash of coloured lights and the other half of the scream which she had left at the charity function. Her wrist was still being clamped between two hands, and she was dragged roughly out of the apparation point. Her head was circling the skull it had formerly inhabitated dizzily, and the familiar lurch of the tandem apparation left her retching fruit juice. It clung to the side of her mouth, and mingled with the blood pouring from a gash in her right temple.

Nobody spoke as the hands released her and dragged her upwards so she hung limp from the arms held under her shoulders, like a sad toy which no one loves anymore. Tears clotted her eyes, blurring the shining shapes which flickered tantalizingly in front of her eyes.

'Some Unspeakable,' growled the low voice of the larger man, 'I think the sodding mediwizard would have done better with tandem apparation.'

He dragged the sodden Unspeakable over to the smallest of the stone blocks which surrounded them, and propped her against it. She sank down slightly as the lights receded.

'She's coming round,' commented the familiar voice.

Hermione blinked blurrily, the stench of her own vomit making her want to retch again, but she forced it down. A tiny noise of terror sounded in a childish voice, and the scrape of thick rope against stone as a tiny body wriggled.

'No!' came a child's cry, 'No!'

'Stay still!' the rough voice answered, and his reply was the thump of head against stone.

Hermione opened her eyes, and tried to look around. She was sitting on thick springy grass, damp rising up through the dress she was wearing, the halmark of the cooler evenings. Her back was against rough stone, and rope was binding her; apparantly the work of the stooped wizard worridly watching the larger man. Around her sat at least eleven other stones, and with a sickening jolt of realisation she recognised Stonehenge. The University lights glimmered in the distance, and she realised the stone circle was illuminated by the larger man.

The light seemed to pour out from around his clothes and diffuse into the surroudnings. Even through the clothes she could see the red glow, no matter the thick cloak which he wore. He was standing over one particular stone, and kicking something moodily.

The something he was kicking was pliable and soft, and gave way easily. Hermione retched again as she saw that it was a tiny child, no older than four. Long dark hair hung around the petit elfin face, pretty pink dungarees stretched over her feet showed her to be a muggle's child, or a tolerant wizard's child. Had she come from a wizarding family with pureblood ideals she would have been in robes. Her little feet were bare, and her face was bloody. The tiny purple T-shirt she wore underneath the dungarees was ripped up one sleeve.

'Master,' the smaller man said, and Hermione turned to face him for the first time that evening, 'The Unspeakable is awake.'

'Good,' the younger man said, and Hermione found herself almost blinded as he stood in front of her.

'Who are you?' the girl asked, forgetting all policies of silence they had tried to teach her at Unspeakable Training, 'And what do you want with me?'

How cliché, her brain chided her gently, how utterly cliché to say those words. Honestly, was she in a muggle movie? Hermione revolted against her brain, and almost wished she was in a muggle movie, that way at least she would know the blood and dirt mingling on the little girl's face was stage make-up.

'And she speaks,' laughed the lit up man, 'I was beginning to wonder if she had slept her way into power, because she certainly doesn't have brains, stupid mudblood.'

'I am not a whore!' she flailed miserably against the bonds, 'I am not!'

'Mister Nicholas Krum certainly thinks you are,' he said, 'Why, he told me so himself. Drew a handsome bit of attention to yourself. Otherwise I didn't think I would have found you – Potter kept trying to engage me in Quidditch talk.'

'Master,' the smaller man whinged, 'May I hurt her? She had me taken to Azkaban, the stupid mudblood, may I?'

'Oh for goodness sake!' snapped the dominant one, 'Do you have no patience? This is why our owner put me in charge. Crap. Anyone would think you didn't know anything!'

The older man with the twisted look to his face sulked away defiantly to where the tiny child still lay, whimpering slightly as she woke up again. He crouched down very close to her and stroked her hair away from her eyes awkwardly; almost a tender movement, but not quite. The little girl squeezed her eyes shut and a tear slipped out from under her eyelids.

'Penthorpe…'

Hermione cringed involuntarily. The dominant male as she had dubbed him had kicked her in the side as he rose unwillingly. His wand was outstretched towards the smaller man, who rose away from the child hurridly.

'You are making her cry,' he carried on, 'Stay away from her.'

'Yes master,' growled the old man, giving the little girl a sly kick in the ribs as he stood.

'Crucio!'

Hermione screamed until she could feel the lining of her throat vibrating. Her eyes shut and she bucked against the stone wildly, wriggling horribly as she tried to eascape the pain. She could feel the air hitting her skin, a million tiny needles poking her savagly. The curse was so painful that she could barely feel the pain any more.

'Hermione!' came an agonized cry from across the stone platform, and Hermione suddenly became aware of the air she was sucking into her lungs furiously as the curse lifted.

Draco Malfoy hurled himself without really being aware of what he was doing. He hit the man he was aiming for and sent both of them crashing to the ground, gasping for breath that refused to come. A deep horrid panic welled up in his eyes, red and savage, as he struggled to breathe. His chest moved rapidly, and out of the corner of his vision he was aware the man he had lown at was breathing the same way.

The ground was rushing up to meet him again before the air he craved rushed back into his system as a foot came down heavily on the back of his neck. He rolled away, hands instinctively tightening around the first man's windpipe. The skin under his hands bobbed as the adam apple danced, and he could feel the beginning of stubble grazing his fingers. There was another kick, lower down his back.

Hermione screamed, and carried on screaming. Their was the sound of a child crying. The air was thick and heavy. Twenty pops filled the sounds with a rythym, but Draco didn't relax his fingers.

'Stupefy!' called a foreign voice, and Hermione was collapsing into gasping sobs, paradoxically screaming again.

'Crucio!' came the voice again, and she screamed and felt her body go numb as she wriggled below the ropes that stopped her from throwing herself onto the ground and ripping her hair out.

'Stupefy!' came another shout, but Draco was thrown violently away from the man as the spell grazed his back and flung him away.

'Avada Kedara!' an unearthly green light filled the arena as a black cloaked Unspeakable fell, gasping and choking as he drowned in his own lungs,

'No!' a shout sounded like a howl, mournful and painfilled, raw like the calling of the urban fox, 'Stupefy! Stupefy!'

The Unspeakables were thrown off track by the dying man, as he gurgled on his back, hands clutching invisable air. They threw themselves flat on the ground in the hopes of not attracting attention and waiting until the green smoke cleared, but it hung there like thick fog, heavy and sad. Malfoy was struggling again, this time with the older man, clawing at his face to make him take the crucio off Hermione, whose mouth was open in a soundless scream. The child was still wailing out a mournful song; sounding to Malfoy more like a death chant every second it suffered his ears.

The little man stumbled this way and that, too confused and upset by the howls of rage coming from a lone Unspeakable who refused to lie low to attempt to use his shahib powers – although they were limited and could not do much damage anyway. The spell he had preformed on Hermione had weakened him considerably, and holding the crucio was draining him. His energies were being expanded in every which way.

Malfoy, inscensed by the gasping primative shudders coming from Hermione, bit down hard onto soft flesh. His slightly sharp canines (The Malfoys were the only family to actively encourage breeding with vampires in the 19th century) bit down and warmth filled his mouth, a faint metallic taste wafting up his nostrils like toxic fumes. The man under him howled and dropped to his knees, stupidly releasing his wand as he tried to roll Malfoy off his back. His fingers clawed at the face close to his neck.

Malfoy felt the fingers scratching his face, and bit down on one of the digits in a frenzied attmept to stop the little man clawing his eyes out. He was rewarded by another yelp, and the sound of Hermione gasping and dragging cold air into her desperate lungs. The sound of another killing curse echoed through the glade as Malfoy's fingers tightened around his victim's throat, squeezing the life from him.

The old man died that evening, his face grotesqley purple with a delicate pattern of finger prints around his throat, of a heart failure brought on by stress, or so the mediwitch diagnosed thoughtfully. Draco Malfoy rolled off him and lay on his back gasping for breath, fingers closing feebily on thin air, aware that there was someone coming towards him, and Hermione was screaming his name. There was blood on his shoes from the throat of the man he had bitten, and the blood still filled his mouth whenever he swallowed.

The edge of a dragonhide boot hit his stomach, and the taller man stumbled over him backwards, backing away from the incensed Unspeakable who was following him. The light surroudning him was flickering, and gathering.

'Balisto!' cried the Unspeakable, and everything seemed to stop for a while.

The man shrieked and clawed at his face as the black light hit him in the centre of his chest – a perfect aim noted the Unspeakable idily – cawing his anguish. In one hand a red ball of light was forming, and his eyes flickered from the prone mediwizard on the floor to the Unspeakable who was killing him. He growled something in a voice no one heard because he was screaming over it, and flung the ball of light into the air. It curved gracefully, shedding light behind it like a falling star.

The Unspeakable watched transfixed.

Draco Malfoy gave one last desperate look at Hermione, bound struggling to the stone, and realised with sickening clarity that he loved her.

'My revenge is complete,' murmered the dying man, seeming to want to make his last moments of life cliché, and smiled a holy, pure smile. It lit up his face like that of a madonna, and cast a glowing sheen upon the transfixed child, watching with open eyes.

'Pappy!' it screamed suddenly, and the man, looking so pious and clean, tipped forward onto his knees, and from his knees to embrace to cold hard earth that called him home.

Seconds later the light ball, his final parting gift, hit Draco Malfoy so that he writhed and bled upon the ground. The child screamed. Hermione ripped through the bonds and stumbled forward on her hands and knees, forcing her damaged body to obey her commands.

She sat on that bloody battlefield, realising as she did so that she had seen this done hundreds of times before, and cradled his head in her lap. His face was mangled with blood, and he had no control over his limbs. She told him exactly what she thought of him, not caring about anything else, not even caring if he didn't return the sentiment.

'I love you Draco Malfoy,' she whispered, kissing his damp, slick face. Her lips came away red.

His mouth wouldn't open, so he just looked her straight in the eye. She bent down to kiss him long and hard on the lips, and he whispered to her as she did so the words she wanted to hear more than anything. His hand somehow found it's way to her rounded bump, and he smiled serenly.

Snuffling / crying corner:

Can I just take this opportunity to say I think I have the best reviewers ever? I got home from school today absolutely gasping because of German (meeep) and read your reviews, and they made me laugh so much I decided to forget my homework and write you another chapter. I just wanted to say thanks because you brightened up my day!

Sorry this took so long, I hope you can see why it did – Draco had to come in and he refused to (he wanted a dramatic entrance – honestly, the fuss) and then I had to tie everything in. Hopefully you understand, if you don't things will be revealed next chapter.

Right, I would have had this up last night, but msn decided not to work, so I had to wait to do this…and look, now it does. Excellent.

Obsessive:- Thanks oodles O bountiful reviewer, I'm glad you like my updating infrequenties. Sorry about this time!

Sunflower18:- awesome, I shall have to add that to my repetoire. It's not asap, but hey, it's a chapter!

Jean jelly bean:- Thanks for understanding! Instalment – sounds more exciting than this was! Teehee!

Draco's Slytherin angel:- Fantabulous review! It made me really happy! I'm so glad you liked Hermione, I'm always a bit unsure whether I get her right. I guess Nigel is one of those culture differences – although there aren't that many youth in Britain called Nigel it's still the epitomy of normality. And part of the charm of Lancelot for me was the kind of love-mess for me – I always thought that by calling your child Lancelot you were practically stamping 'stud' on his head. Maybe I'm just weird. Thanks so much for your review!

Missy3:- ::bounces for a while and then stops:: that was tiring. Thanks!

Soul Stealer Immortal:- Excellent name. I haven't actually decided whether to kill the baby off or not, but I think not. You never know, I might send Draco down the gym and shape him up – perhaps. Depends on how sappy I feel. And you got the link you clever person you. Thanks!

Baconstrips:- _GENERAL NOTE_, you loser. If you guys haven't got one of these charming 'reviews' yet you simply have to go onto my review pages and read them. It cracked me up, honestly it did. I don't think I've ever been called a fer so many times in my life. And no, I don't think you're mean, I think you're sad, and have the most abyssmal vocabularly ever. Teehee. Why did I get one anyway? Hmmm.

Foxer:- Thanks for pointing out the mistakes in the names, I'm sorry. I hope you like this chapter more – I wasn't nuts on the last one either, but it had to be there. Thanks for the review!

MadAboutHarry:- Name That Tune? Explain please. It kind of lingers on the edge of my subconcious mind, but that's probably an image conjured up. Hmmm. Perhaps I was a little over enthusiastic. I forgot about the trials, so it's more like four chapters, not including this one…er, whoops?

Sweet Beatrix:- Pregnant Hermione was kindof cool really. Don't worry, 'nice' pregnant Hermione crops up again. I was oing to have her being all modd swingy with her kidnappers, but then I thought she couldn't, because she's a professional and probably been trained in how to deal with those situations…blablabla. I'm glad you got the Draco I meant for people to get! It wasn't really a soon update, but never mind…::ducks missiles:: okay, I'll try and be quicker next time.

Venus725:- I like that, a kind of pledge. Snazzy. You'd better read the rest of it ::menacing glare::

Dark Pixie 13:- That wasn't too long was it? ::guilty face:: whoops. Glad you enjoyed it.

Lauren:- If my head gets any bigger it'll fall off my neck. That was such a sweet thing to say! I'm assuming you read the rest, or maybe ignored it. ::grin:: Thanks!

I think that's the most reviews I've ever got! You're all so sweet (except 'baconstrips' because that wasn't really a review, just a general, pointless thing, but never mind). ::throws arms up and does weird little jig:: I decided not to dedicate this chapter because you're all so lovely and I couldn't choose anyone…

_Added later: Oh wow! 100 reviews! ::jumps around a lot:: I'm so happy!_


	14. By So Many To So Few

**All I need to get by**

****

Chapter Twelve: By So Many to So Few

_Never in the field of human conflict has so much been owed by so many to so few_

_Winston Churchill_

'Not another word in the letter,' read Hermione queitly, her hands folding the book neatly in her lap, 'about his errand; his mind ran on nothing but this astronomical subject. He had succeeded in his mission, and yet he did not even say yes or no to the great question : whether or not her husband was masquerading in London as the address she had given. 'Was ever anything so provoking!' she cried.'

'As Thomas Hardy?' asked a low, pained voice, 'No, I don't believe so.'

'You're so sceptical,' she retorted, letting the book fall to the floor, 'honestly, we're hardly into it yet.'

'You've been reading it to me for the last two weeks,' he retorted with a sly grin, 'how is that _hardly_?'

'Honestly,' huffed the bedside visitor.

Thomas Hardy's Two on a Tower fell unheeded to the floor as it slid off Hermione's lap and onto the linoleum with a muffled sound of scratching paper. On the bedside cabinet lay a rather large bowl of engorged grapes; as the bedridden man had almost no fine motary skills in his hands. Hermione Granger took one in her hand, and tossed it up and down menacingly.

'Do you want this up your nose?' she asked pleasantly, and he shook his head, a small smirk tugging at his lips, 'Then we'll carry on with Hardy.'

She rustled the pages a bit, attempting to find a more interesting bit – for although she loved the muggle author, the patient was not so keen on him.

'Ah, here,' she murmured at last, 'Swithin entered and seated himself at the end of the bench, and she, who had been on the watch…'

'Bring,' came a slightly foreign, far too bright sound in the clinical room, 'Bring!'

'Dammit,' muttered the patient, 'I was just getting into that.'

Hermione looked over the top of her newly acquired reading glasses at him, and frowned. She closed the novel with a little snap, and laid it tidily on the bedside table, along with the three cards and pile of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. The sheets were neatened up around him, and she kissed his forehead affectionately, although when she drew back her lips were still frowning.

'Malfoy,' came a morose voice from the doorway as it was pushed open, 'I hope you aren't allowing your _visitor_ to strain you.'

'Oh be quiet Nott,' Hermione snapped, still unnerved by his arrogance, and kissed the patient's upturned hands.

Her flat abdomen brushed against the edge of the bed, and she felt a pang of pain radiate from inside her. Salty winds blew up into her eyes, and she hurried from the room, brushing Thomas Hardy onto the floor as she almost ran.

'Don't you ever know when to shut up?' she heard Draco demand as angrily as he could when his voice box was still being held together with magic.

The corridor was long and clinical; pale yellow walls trying to reflect the feeble December sunlight. She stopped when she was halfway along, and pressed her forehead to the wall. The coolness of it comforted her, and she pressed her face further against it, wanting to feel the numbness spread. Little fires burnt beneath her eyes, but she extinguished them with unshed tears, and clenched her fists into balls. It was ten in the morning, and she had to liason with three Unspeakables in this corridor and The Child. Perhaps she would stop briefly in the Purple Room, and pause to watch the revolving magic cacoon.

'Excuse me?' came a concerned, bossy voice from behind her, 'Are you alright?'

'Of course, fine,' she answered in a half daze, and the nurse nodded in understanding as she turned around.

'Good,' he answered vaguely, and left carrying a stack of bedlinen.

She walked along the corridor and down a staircase, into the Magical wards which spanned the hospital, and left the comforting calm of the seventh floor. Below nurses rushed past her, checking the time hurridly and filling in reports while they adjusted their robes. Healers in red robes fussed and reprimanded the nurses as they rushed after patients and timetables. The long term ward stretched before her like an eternity as she paused before entering.

'Good morning!' buzzed a nurse cheerfully, who didn't know her name, 'My, you're early today!'

'Yes?' she asked in a dull voice, 'Reports please.'

The nurse, who had seen her every week for the last month, beamed brightly and passed her three sheets of paper, each with a name written at the top. Her scraggly brown hair was pulled back from her face, and she wore glasses that were round. It was almost a pity they had to obliviate her once her three patients were released, Hermione ruminated idily as she mooched down to private room number seven two four.

She didn't say anything until she had seated herself on a chair by the window and straightened out her jodphurs, and polished an imaginary speck off her boots.

'You're early,' said the strangled sounding voice, and Hermione met a gaze that was focused on a tree outside the window.

'I went to see Dr. Malfoy,' she answered.

'Oh?' enquired the Unspeakable wistfully.

'Yes. They're pulling his voice box back together today,' she wasn't really supposed to mention the 'accident' as Operation Stonehenge had been dubbed, but a sudden vicous monster reared it's head up.

There was a groaning silence as 433 scanned his papers, and straightened a crease in it's corner.

'You're being dismissed this week,' she remarked with some surprise.

'Yes,' he finally sounded a little animated, and pulled his gaze to hers for a second before ltting his eyes wander again, 'Going home, the nurse says in a childish manner.'

'What will you do?'

'Go and see my daughter,' he said, almost proudly, and Hermione bit back a gasp. This Unspeakable was a member of her elite team, and she hadn't known he had a daughter. Perhaps there was something archaic in the Unspeakable rules, something that needed to be fixed.

'Will you come back to the team?' she asked, knowing she had to for her reports.

'Will you?' he asked, and then shook his head in response to his insensative question.

'If…' she trailed off, 'Perhaps,' he _deserved_ honesty, 'I honestly don't know.'

'Yes,' he answered decisivley, 'Yes I will.'

She didn't know why but his conviction suddenly made her unwavering reply seem small and pathetic. She looked down at the notes again, and scribbled 'yes' on the top right hand corner.

The next Unspeakable made her write out _no_, but as soon as he went back to sleep she scribbled it out, and wrote _declined_ next to it. There was something cowardly about the way he said no, and she couldn't shake it from her head. _Declined_, that was a better word. He was in the lowest, oldest squad, and she didn't want him to be remembered because he was a coward – he had served long and hard years. She tried to shake off his feeling of disapproval of her, but that didn't budge either.

Zacharias Smith was sitting in the large, battered chair she had transfigured for him by the window when she arrived in room seven two nine. He had a blanket tucked around his legs, and his face was gaunt while he watched the city street spread beneath him. His lips were thin, and there was a drip attatched to his bed.

'Hey Zach,' she said softly as she closed the door behind her, and sat down on the bed.

'I thought he was alive,' he said brokenly, and a sob caught in his throat.

'He was alive long enough to hear,' you scream, she wanted to say, you say you loved him, her mind chimed, and after a moment's dithering she settled on 'you.'

'To hear me murder another man,' he said, dully.

'You didn't murder him!' flared Hermione defiantly, 'It wasn't murder!'

'What was it then?' Zach asked, turning to her, eyes burning with tears, 'Then what _was_ it Hermione?'

She reamined silent, not moving to touch him at all. She had seen Draco strangle a man, yet he showed no remorse. What was it that made Zacharias different from her beloved? Was _Draco_ a monster because he didn't feel _anything_, her mind wondered traitorously.

'I wish he could be here,' she said at last, 'I wish this hadn't happened.'

'You have to change it _Hermione_!' Zacharias snarled savagely, throwing back the blankter and looming over her. Terrified, her hand closed on the tiny panic button she held. 'Hermione you have to _do_ something! Look at _us_! Look at the _Unspeakables_! You know number one _isn't_ upto it! _You_ know _he_ made _mistakes_! For the _love_ of _God_ _Hermione_! **_Please_**!'

She watched him take a stunner to the head from a burly nurse with a no-nonsense look on her grim face. The tears dried on his face as they levered him into bed, and she didn't feel afraid of him anymore. She cried in the corridor.

Slowly, with the dried tears sitting on her face, she wandered down to the next level, where The Child was being held. She was sitting on top of her bed with her legs folded neatly beneath her, dressed in an oversized green shirt that Hermione vaguely recognized, and a pair of jeans. She was colouring in, concentration completely held by the blue crayon in her hand and the picture of a slug. Her mother was sitting next to her, on a chair, wearing muggle clothes and a cloak over the top. Her eyes were fixated on her daughter, as if she was afraid she would vanish any second.

'Good afternoon,' Hermione said quietly, realising it was after noon, and stood at the end of the bed.

The Child looked up at her briefly, waved the crayon at her, and went back to her work. There was a brownish stain that even magic couldn't remove up the back of the shirt. Hermione felt sick. She could smell the scent of death in that shirt, and the expensive cologne that had loomed over her. Her mind was playing tricks on her, she repeated firmly.

'She's wearing _his_ shirt again,' came the strangled voice of her mother, 'She won't wear anything else.'

Hermione said nothing. The Child was the result of a rape, and to hear of her attackers identity and escape had almost driven the woman round the bend. She was afraid of her daughter, who showed a great deal of magical energy, and had retreated to the muggle world. Her father had snatched her.

'Drawing slug!' announced The Child firmly, ignoring her mother, 'Pappy likes slugs! Show pappy!'

There was a strangled sob from her mother, and the chair was vacant. The café would be the recepitant of a distraught witch for at least an hour. Hermione sat down on the bed, and looked at the slug.

'It's very good,' she said soothingly, a part of her screaming hypocrite. Hermione would have run out of the room long ago, 433 didn't, 'But why do you want to give it to pappy? Why not mammy?'

'Pappy loves me,' said the little girl serenely, 'he told me so.'

Hermione thought of the soft, round body hitting the stone, and the blood that had been running down her cheek, and almost retched. She wanted to scream at the little girl, to shake her shoulders with rage, to tell her that her father had been planning to sacrifice her and drain her powers, but she couldn't. Instead she sat with the little girl for an hour, until she asked the customary question.

'Why didn't pappy kill you? He said he would,' and Hermione choked up.

'Pappy didn't kill me because,' she paused for thought, 'Because somebody loves me too.'

The Child nodded happily, and passed Hermione a picture of a leopard that she had drawn. It looked like a sheep with pink spots, but Hermione ucked it into her file anyway. The Head could unravel it, deal with it, burn it. She could barely touch it.

She left, hurridly. She had work to do.

Six days to the trial.

Pointless Part:-

I guess most of you will be saying what did that have to do with anything? Basically it's a prelude to the trial, and to see what's happening to those involved. I hope you like it; I used curt styles to show Hermione reigning in her emotions before you complain. Anyway, I think that's about it. See you next time!

Patagonia:- Perhaps I do understand human nature, or perhaps I'm just a cynic. Thanks for your review, it was really nice to have someone think about why they liked it so much.

Puzzlette:- I think I told just about everyone I know that you said I was a _glittery_ writer, I was so pleased! What newts will get me? Hmmm, attack of the killer newts. Interesting. Oh, it was very confusing when everyone was generally being rude at the end of the last chapter, but next chapter it will be clearer, I promise. Ta!

Soul Stealer Immortal:- No, Draco isn't dead. I love being wished happy writing, it's so cool. You should patent it before I steal it ::ashamed look:: sorry.

Sunflower18:- it was meant to be depressing, not make you giggle. ::hmph::

SilverMoonset:- Scary person. I'm glad you don't care when I might kill off my crucial characters… ::laughs:: Thanks!

Paprika90:- Excellent, thanks very much!

Irishsodabread:- You're lovely. That was such a nice review. I'm glad you think my portrayal is accurate – it's something that I try to do, but sometimes it doesn't work. I don't believe you can just go into a story and change them around, glad you noticed. Y'know, putting _Later Kid_, makes you sound like a gangster. It was excellent! )

Sila-Chan:- Glad you enjoyed it, thanks for putting me on your favourites list!

Chica91:- ::whispers entire plot:: there, now I've ruined it for you. Oh, you didn't actually want to know the entire story? Whoops. Gah, I'm such a cheeky monkey, sorry! Thanks so much! )

Sweet Beatrix:- Oy, you think just because you review every single chapter you get away with a one line review? Nah, only kidding. ::snuffles with laughter:: sorry, I think I'm kind of weird today. Ciao!

Heartsyhawk:- welcome to this weird world! Thanks for your review! Hope you enjoyed this chappie too.

Foxer:- I think everyone is ::gloomily::. Maybe my mind works differently to everyone else's. Thanks lovely!

Jean jelly bean:- The Child is a kind of weird extension that'll all be explained next chapter. Basically she mr-evil's kid…and she has everything to do with everything. Doubter ::sulky face:: If you had written any more 'moremoremore' I would have thought you had hyperventilated or sommat. ::beams:: thanks for your custom, please review again! ::cheesey grin:: Gah.

Me again. I just wanted to say thanks again, and I know I'm confusing most of you, but hang on in there and all will become clear. Oh, and what did you think of The Child?

By the way, anybody guessed what the _rotating caccoon_ is? The idea came to me outside my locker and I jumped up and down so hard I bounced on Emma's toe…heehee


	15. By Trial and Error

**You're All I Need to Get By**

Chapter Thirteen: By Trial and Error

_My lover spoke to me and said to me, Arise, my darling, my beautiful one, and come with me. See! The winter is past; the rains are over and gone. Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come, the cooing of doves in heard in our land. The fig-tree forms its early fruit; the blossoming vines spread their fragrance. Arise, come my darling; my beautiful one, come with me._

Song of Songs 2:10-13

_But as to myself, having been wearied out for many years with offering vain, idle, visionary thoughts, and at length utterly despairing of success, I fortunately fell upon this proposal…_

Jonathon Swift, A Modest Proposal

Hermione Granger sat back from her desk with a sigh. The chair she was sitting on shifted back a little and allowed her to push it down while she stretched her arms above her head and pulled the muscles. Across the wooden table Albus Dumbeldore sat, immobile and shocked, his pale face wan and tired looking. His eyebrows were inclining towards being knitted in the middle, but apparently his shock was too great for this to happen. His fingers were steepled above the elbows propped on the desk. The worst sign of an accountant, transferred to a former revolutionary counting the costs even eight years after the battle.

'They sent him to Azkaban,' she said slowly, 'the day after the trial. He died.'

Dumbeldore was silent, pondering the pensieve he had been swimming in a moment ago. The thick silvery strands swirled, showing flashes of colour. The face of Zacharias Smith floated to the front, in the Leaky Cauldron, earnestly discussing the colour of his butterbeer. Behind him Hermione laughed, downing orange schnapps.

'He died on the evidence of my superior,' she added after a moment, watching her own face with a strange fascination.

'I am sorry,' Dumbeldore croaked at last, and Hermione felt herself idly wondering why he seemed so upset abut the death of Smith when even Bill Weasley's death eight years ago had been taken calmly.

The pensieve swam again, Smith's face burying itself deeply within the grey tinted substance of Hermione's thoughts. A faint memory of her commander swam before the two silent puppets sitting by the desk, the pensieve seeming to respond to their thoughts.

Hermione almost choked, almost gagged, almost threw the moon like bowl across the room to watch the memories of her friend sink and die as he had done. Her heart was made of sawdust, and it rose up into her mouth. She could feel nothing. Her thoughts were empty. She folded her stretched arms neatly across her lap and clasped the pale hands together, watching the flat abdomen rise and fall. Dumbeldore sighed and reached across the desk to pat her arm in a falsely comforting manner.

'What should we do?' he asked, and she looked up surprised.

'And so the prey becomes the predator,' she remarked quietly, watching him keenly.

'I confess I am out of ideas. I trusted the Commander, he had stood by us. Why he should do this mystifies me.'

'HERMIONE!' screamed the pensieve suddenly, Zach's face fighting to the front again, 'DO SOMETHING! Why are you just sitting there?'

The shocked faces of the jury glanced past him at her, the blank, bland walls of the Wizengamot blinked at her briefly as he moved his head. His matted blonde hair looked dark under the lank grease which had accumulated. His eyes were wide and wild.

'Save us,' he whispered, and sank back into his trance as he was stupefied by the aurors who stood on guard.

'The Unspeakable Department,' Hermione began with finality, 'must be cleansed. How many more will he send off to Azkaban on false evidence? Dumbeldore_, some_thing _must_ be done.'

'You are right of course,' the old man said sadly, 'a new leader must be elected.'

'I will speak to him,' Hermione said, standing up from the desk and picking up the pensieve carefully, as if it were a tiny child, 'A vote of no confidence must be called.'

Dumbledore sat dumbly as she opened the box where her pensive slept, and cradled it there to rest until she needed it again. His blue eyes watched the wall dimly; wrinkled hands tucked into the sleeves of his wizarding robes.

It was sudden and shocking. Hermione let out a brief rush of air and crouched over, gathering her arms to her abdomen hungrily. It was over in a brief second, but the purple wrist band she had been wearing for the last three weeks gleamed brightly, casting an eerie glow over her straightened body.

'Oh,' she gasped suddenly, looking at the simple loop of plastic as if it were the most precious thing on earth, 'Oh.'

There was a whirl of purple around her and she stumbled suddenly, her feet touching the cold marble floor of St Mungo's Hospital briefly before she was snatched from falling. A male nurse was holding her elbows and beaming genially at her in recognition.

'Miss Granger,' he said happily, 'at last.'

'Last?' she panted out, another pain ripping through her, 'why are they so painful?'

'Amplified birth,' he replied in a happy tone of voice, guiding her through a large set of double doors and into a bare room.

In all honesty, it was not a bare room. It was dominated by a purple cocoon, about the size of an oval beach ball, with bumps appearing on the surface every so often. The walls gleamed with a strange purple light, and at the base there was a tiny opening appearing. Against the magical window a large bed lay ready, which the happy nurse led her over to and sat her upon. The mattress was firm beneath her legs, and a little crinkly, as if too many protection spells had been used on it.

'You just stay there,' he smiled happily, revealing perfectly gleaming teeth, 'midwitch Nancy will be here any moment. '

Midwitch Nancy, it turned out, was an absolute darling of a particularly ferocious midwitch. She had rather short dark hair intermittedly woven with silver, in tight curls on her wrinkled head, piercing brown eyes and stood at around the nurse's waist.

'Morning, Miss Granger,' she boomed in a voice that was too large to be true, 'anyone we need to contact?'

'My,' Hermione floundered for a moment sadly, 'Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.'

'And where can we find him?' the nurse chirped brightly, as Nancy gave him a scathing look.

'Dr Malfoy,' she said, 'Seventh floor – go and ask reception to call him down.'

'Oooooh,' gasped the nurse in relative awe, 'Going private are you?'

'No,' growled the Unspeakable angrily as another pain swept over her relentlessly, 'He's the father.'

'Damn,' the nurse remarked cheerfully, 'and there was me thinking he was gay. How awful.'

'Get on with it!' Nancy almost shrieked from behind her wand, and the nurse (whom Hermione was beginning to suspect was gay himself) scurried off to do her bidding.

The purple cocoon was beginning to thump around madly now, the faint pressure of a tiny hand appearing here and there in obvious anger. The two witches sat in silence for a moment, watching it, one in awe, one in a calculating manner.

'Can't find him,' chirruped the nurse loudly, strolling back into the room some half an hour later.

Hermione was sweaty and angry now; her face red as she huffed and puffed in attempts to control the pain. The midwitch was standing by the purple cocoon, peering at the widening gap, and smiling in obvious approval.

'We're ready to go,' she announced suddenly, 'you'll just have to do without him.'

It was obvious she didn't believe Malfoy was the father, or that this annoyed chit of a witch knew what he was doing at this precise moment.

'No!' Hermione screamed loudly, slamming her fist down on the starched bed, 'no, no, no!'

Nancy was not listening. Her wand was outstretched, tracing a pattern on the purple cocoon as she freed the struggling baby.

Hermione couldn't see; her eyes were filled with tears of betrayal and anguish. She barely noticed when a scream pierced the air, a new pair of lungs greedily sucking in air.

The first she knew of her baby was a pair of tiny grey eyes unfocused, but watching the wall behind her with some degree of cool fascination. Long lashes framed his open eyes, and tiny wrinkled fingers hadn't uncurled yet, although it was clear he had been hanging around in the purple cocoon long enough to open his eyes.

There was complete silence. Hermione gazed at the baby. The baby gazed at the wall.

_'AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGGG'_

General Note: so many thanks to those who reviewed. I'm so sorry I can't thank you personally, but I will soon. I thought you might want this now more than later…

No, Draco isn't off chasing some tart with long legs. Or hang on, maybe he is. For medical research you understand. Only joking.

And in case you think I'm being completely inaccurate portraying Baby with his eyes open, I was born with my eyes open, so it can be done. Go me.

Right, I need baby names.

And reviews.

Please.


	16. Folly and Mishaps

**All I Need To Get By**

Chapter Fourteen: Folly and Mishaps

Draco Malfoy's breath was coming in ragged gasps, his chest tightening horribly around his lungs so he could barely breath, and the stitch in his side so painful that even as he ran he was doubled up in pain. It was gloomy around him, the muggle street lights had shattered from the magical energy he and his pursuer were radiating, the ground beneath his feet of damp cement making his shoes slide a little as they pounded.

His cloak lay three streets behind him, cast off along the way for some muggle street cleaner to find and take to the local dump, where it would linger until a tonne of heavy earth feel atop it in some far off landfill. He wished he had worn the muggle trainers Hermione had bought him as a joke instead of the expensive dragonskin boots he sported. His arm shook slightly as he cradeled its bleeding wound closer to his blood stained shirt.

St Mungo's drew up before his very eyes, dummies standing motionless in the window, shadows draping them as if they had once more become draped with expensive fabrics. He ran straight through it, absorbed through the glass because of his doctorate in medicin and the tiny pass he had stitched into his black shirt. Behind him it shattered loudly, clearly his antagoniser was not prepared to wait for the creaky dummy to permit him access.

The klaxon sounded around his ears as the window exploded, so loud it made him wince in pain. He couldn't breath he suddenly realised, and the loss of blood was making his head light, as if someone had placed wingardium leviosa on it, as if it hovered like Hermione's feather in that second charms lesson of their first year. He dropped as he ran, folding in on himself, the momentum making his body travel some feet across the marble floor of the recepetion, which had emptied as the klaxon sounded. He left a trail of blood in his wake.

The wizard chasing him had slowed to a walk, his breathing heavy in Malfoy's ears, but he was not the one laying gasping for breath on the cool marble surface as Malfoy was. The neatly polished black boots stopped a little in front of Draco's nose, pointed toes sinking deep into the pale flesh as he kicked. Draco felt his nose explode.

The klaxon doubled in sound, it's whine summoning fifteen aurors somewhere, but too slowly. The neat red shoes of the auror he had run after to bring back to his ward hovered in front of Malfoy's eyes. The stillhetoes shifted a little uneasily.

'Go and make sure nobody comes,' said a male voice, and the red heels teetered off to the doorway, their clicks sounding like agony in Draco's ears. She was standing in front the the window she had apparated through he guessed.

'Meddlesome,' said the male voice, the toe grinding into the blood coated marble as it spoke, 'that's all you are Malfoy.'

The vibrations of a pair of shoes thudding up a set of stairs some distance away made Malfoy's teeth move slightly, but the man standing above his didn't notice. The smell of a fag drifted across the foyer, but all that Malfoy could smell was the acrid quality of the blood filling his throat and where his nostril's had been. The footsteps slowed their vibrations.

'All this is your own fault,' said the male, taking a step back and sniffing elegantly, 'Put that thing out Leviosa!'

'Yah, yah, yah,' responded the female auror, and stabbed the cigarette into the window, where it fizzeled delicately.

'Mavara!' came a female shout suddenly, and the spell sped across the open airspace to hit the man standing above Malfoy.

'433,' he snarled angrily, trying to flex the frozen muscles of his leg.

'Aurors!' came a frightened scream from the window, 'They're here already! How?'

'Impedimenta!' came a gruff sounding shout of an auror suddenly becoming aware of a situation, 'Impedimenta!'

'Baricosa!' shouted the auror Leviosa, backing away from the hastily errected red shield which glowed over the window. The cigarette had dropped from her fingers as soon as the three aurors had strolled jauntily around the corner, expecting nothing more than to go and see their friend. It lay glowing on the floor, stubbed and dropped.

'Mavarisca!' bellowed Hermione, rolling out of the doorway she had been sheltering in and behind the reception desk.

Leviosa sank, groaning to the floor, clutching her stomach and breathing raggedly. 433 had transferred her pain to the other girl, who hadn't been trained well enough to withstand it. The desk shattered in front of her as she threw her hands upto protect her face. Across the floor Draco's antagonist fingered his wand thoughtfully as the shattered remains of the desks and thousands of medical files settled onto the marble floor as dust.

'Good evening 433,' he said calmly, smiling a grim smile.

'What are you doing?' screamed Hermione, already moving across the floor towards Draco, now unconcious.

'Reclaiming my best unspeakable,' he said icily, 'the rest will follow.'

'This is folly!' she shrieked quite suddenly, pointing to the long trail of blood and Leviosa on the floor, 'The vote has already been cast!'

For more than a mere moment number one looked perfectly confused, fixing her with a unwavering stare that focused on her left eyebrow rather intently. When he finally spoke he seemed as confused as he looked, for his voice was steady and tense and filled with curiosity.

'Vote?' he asked, shifting his wand through his fingers, 'Whatever are you talking about?'

'The vote of no confidence,' Hermione glanced towards Draco as she said this, keeping half an eye on her enemy, 'It has already been cast.'

'Grow up 433,' he answered, suddenly sounding amused, 'You're far too keen, you must know that when, as I inevitably will, I die, you are clearly the only Unspeakable capable of taking over our Department.'

'This isn't about that!' Hermione whispered after a moment of stunned silence, her eyebrows drawing together quite fiercly, 'This is about my friends, and my colleagues and the future of the Department.'

'How noble,' he replied in a terribly drole voice, completely ignoring the silently screaming auror some two metres away from his foot.

'No. If this was about being noble, I would have appealed to your human kindness and allowed you to resign instead of being dishonourably discharged. No, this is about who _you_ _kill_ and _obliviate_ and _control_ for some _sick_ _power_!'

'Really?' he asked, a mocking note clear in his voice, 'No, this is about you.'

'Me?' Hermione murmured, (understanding perhaps as little as everyone else)

'Of course you, girl,' he snapped, rather irritated, his wand still and pointed directly at her wnad, pointed at him, 'The only female Unspeakable. The best. 433 with the power radiating off her. 433,' he growled, 'disobeying unspoken orders and traditions. Turning this department on it's head because _my_ men _fancy_ themseleves in love with you – _fancy_ an odd kind of **respect**, _fancy_ they would follow **you** to the ends of the earth! Don't you think _I see you tease them_?'

'How dare you!' she screamed, infuriated.

She slipped a little on Draco's blood as she leapt for him, her wand flying out of her fist as it connected with his, and both skittered across the floor. The blood already on her fingers as she wrapped them around his throat wasn't either of theirs, it belonged to the man who had sparked the whole thing. Hermione saw red, both of them saw red, as the shielding spell exploded inwards, shards of the magic burrying themselves deep in her back so that she arched inwards briefly, never removing the weight of her body saddling his.

He flipped her over backwards, pinning her to the ground and driving the physical magic deeper into her back as Leviosa flopped in convulsions a mere thirty centimetres away from them. She bit his neck, and watched in almost satisfaction as he stiffened in revulsion and allowed her to head butt his chin fiercley.

There were shouts in the distance, shouts of stop, for help, to save 'the stupid ferret' as one at least of the aurors reverted back to his childhood in times of great stress. One was pulled off her by two of the aurors, the last having been dispatched to fetch their head of command by providing a neat apparation point some metres from the hospital. Leviosa stopped writhing and thrashing, and lay eerily still.

The pain which returned to Hermione did not merely wash over her, it power showered her into oblivion, and beyond.

**Another quick update while I have time… Review!**


	17. If It Makes You Happy

**All I Need To Get By**

Chapter Fifteen: If It Makes You Happy

_Not that he felt much jealousy of her situation, as his wife, in comparison with his own. He had so clearly understood from the beginning that, in the event of marriage, their outward lives were to run on as before, that to rebel now would have been unmannly to himself and cruel to her, by adding to embarrassments that were great enough already. His momentary doubt was of his own strength to achieve sufficiently high things to render him, in relation to her, other than a patronised young favourite, whom she had married at an immense sacrifice of posistion. Now, at twenty, he was doomed to isolation even from a wife; could it be that at, say thirty, he would be welcomed everywhere?_

Two On A Tower – Thomas Hardy

_If it makes you happy_

_Then it can't be that bad_

_O If it makes you happy_

_Why do you looks so sad_

Sheryl Crow - If It Makes You Happy

Draco Malfoy rounded the corner with a faint squek of his dragonhide boots, polished to their usual high sheen except for the slightly scuffed toes. His flaxen hair was tied neatly behind his head with a leather band, but somehow it didn't have the lustre it normally achieved. The same went for his smartly creased and exactly co-ordinated clothes, somehow he was not as sharp as was normal. The continual magic that had been used to refresh and organize himself for the last two weeks was waning.

He passed the bed which shared this room, and glanced at it briefly. The witch sitting up in it smiled at him a little, and went back to cooing at the tiny baby lying in her husband's arms. They would be gone tonight, like the other couples he had seen in that bed since he first started arriving here punctually instead of going home. The room itself was very large and airy, looking out directly onto Mungo Park through the leafy branches of a large tree. The sun light streamed through it, casting dancing patterns on the floor, and reflecting off the sheer amount of machinery in the room.

His baby, their baby he reminded himself angrily, was sleepily lying in a little woven basket. Her left leg was kicking idily as she gazed without focus on the ceiling, which she clearly found most entertaining. She had a fist stuffed in her mouth, and was sucking it furiously. Tiny hands were still curled in on themselves, and limbs moved without prompting. She smelt, as he bent over her and lifted her up, of clean magic and talcum powder, and moved her little lips against her fist in confusion at the sensation of flying.

She didn't have a name yet. He wasn't sure whether he would call her after her mother, because he wasn't sure if her mother would ever wake up. She was just 'baby' or 'boo-boo' to her extremely doting uncle Blaise, who came in every day to visit her after work. She already had fourteen toy dragons from him; the Healer who attended her was entirely sure she would end up as a dragon trainer with all the influence. She kicked his hand furiously, but happily, he supposed, as she wasn't screaming.

He kissed her impulsively on the hand as he sat down on the chair which Blaise had transfigured for him two weeks ago, feeling it mould comfortably to his body. He lay his daughter down on his knees, and rubbed her tummy a little, until she cooed happily and kicked so hard that her right leg did a complete circle. Mentally, he applauded her, and made a note to add to the baby book which he kept in his office.

Hermione Granger had been lying in the hospital bed for three weeks now, occassionally waking out of one coma to be plunged into another almost immediately. The healers were flummuxed – the machine's constant monitoring claimed she was awake, feeling things, healthily so, but yet she didn't wake. She skin was alabastor to the feel when Draco took her hand in his, slightly clammy. The white sheets up to her armpits made her naked, pale skin look almost green in the strange light that trickled into the room.

Narcissa Malfoy had never been a pleasant woman or girl. She was proud of her looks, and jealously protective of her husband, still securely locked in Azkaban. Temper tantrums to rival Elton John's were a frequent occurance, and lavish parties and gifts. She barely wasted a thought on politics, and made no distinction between half blood and mudblood, only those of clothes. Rich, snobbish and powerful was Narcissa, but she had one weak chink. Her son, her baby, her divine child.

He was as beautiful as her, and as male as her husband, and the central pivot in her universe. The best education, the best material possesions, and all the love a mother could lavish on her only child (except that which was reserved for the Afgahn Hound which followed her everywhere). She had been vaguely appalled when he told her that Hermione Granger (whom she had loathed on his behalf) had been delivered into his care, and had watched with horror the downward rot which took him from there on.

But despite this, perhaps because of the abhorance she held for the girl, she had been most alarmed when newspapers had glaringly announced her comatose state. It had been left to Blaise Zabini to tell her about her grandchild, as the distraught Draco rarely left the hospital where both mother and child were held. A possibly pang of sorrow when, week after week, the Daily Prophet revealed that she was still comatose.

The bed which she currently lay in, taking her evening nap before dressing for the ball she was attending that evening, was excruciatingly comfortable as it stroked her bare skin with the silk sheets. The photograph she was holding in her hand however, consummed her entire devotion. It was of her grand-daughter, Draco had written on the back; the most exquisate blonde haired grey eyed child, with fine bones, and looking very much like Narcissa's son. She was blinking, and sucking her thumb and staring just past the camera with a complete lack of focus that was touching to see.

'Nanar!' Narcissa called suddenly, 'Fetch me my jersey dress, and, yes, those black heels as well.'

St Mungo's was most distressing for Narcissa. The nurses greeted her cheerfully and with wholly no concern for her status, and admired her close knit jersey dress from behind her back. She walked to the maternity section tapping as she went, with her bag slung over her shoulder and horrifically concious that she was wearing all black and a hat with a small veil over the front. The Healer in charge waved her through with a raised eyebrow, and the couple sharing the room ignored her completely, giggling over their new arrival.

She stood for a moment before approaching Draco. He was staring at Granger's face with a look of devotion which Narcissa had only ever seen on her husband once. His grey eyes were unwavering as they watched her face , and his mouth moved as he told her about her daughter, and her circular foot. The baby was lying on his knees, watching him with perfect calmness that was most unnatural, seeming to be able to focus on the small signet ring which hung around his neck. It would be hers one day, and then, when she was sixteen, a new one would be commissioned for her as it had been for Draco, and before him, for Lucius. Narcissa felt tears gathering in her eyes.

'Draco?' she said softly, almost not wanting to disturb him.

He looked up suddenly, and she was surprised to see tears in the conrers of his eyes, but they quickly went. He was very gentle with the baby, Narcissa noticed with pride, putting it back in the crib and tucking the blankets around her chest. And then he looked at her, with desperation in his eyes.

Narcissa completely forgot her status (as she was prone to do when Draco was around) and took three long strides over the marble floor to throw her arms around him. Draco found himself drawn into a crushing hug, much like the one Molly Weasley had accidentally given him two days before when she came to visit, but more comfortable and wonderfully familiar. He cried as he semlt the expensive perfume his mother was wearing, and flung his arms around her waist, and sobbed into her hair. She stroked his back, softly, and found his back bones were sticking out a little.

"What do I do?" he whispered into her shoulder, and Narcissa had Inspiration.

"Go and have a bath," she said firmly, pushing him towards the door, "I'll sit here with – err – her and the baby. Have a bath, wash your hair, find some new clothes and have a meal. Now."

She had to almost push him out of the door, but eventually he had gone, casting long backwards looks over his shoulder. She wrinkled her nose. Even she, his beloved mother, had to admit he was not the nicest smelling person at the moment. No doubt that would soon be remedied. The baby lay perfectly still and watched the ceiling.

"Granger," Naricssa began strongly, pulling up her child's chair next to the bed, "You had better wake up soon. He's obviously far too thin and, quite frankly, he smells. You may not be a perfect society girl, but you're clearly," she hesitated, searching for a word she didn't really want to use, "good for him, to use that stupid muggle phrase. And what about your daughter? I feel it would be a good idea to name her Gabrielle," just in case the theory about remembering things when unconcious worked she added; "Gabrielle Narcissa."

I am afraid I am going to disappoint you know if you thought Hermione would wake up, because she didn't, and truth to tell, Narcissa was a bit disappointed as well. She tutted disapprovingly and poked Hermione rather hard in the shoulder.

The baby watched Narcissa's hair with unfocused interest as she was lifted up by her grandmother, and managed to seize a piece and pull unintentionaly. Narcissa surveyed her too with frank disapproval, but seeing her son clearly mirrored in his daughter's eyes softened her to the extent that her grand-daughter was soon happily bouncing up and down on her knee with excited noises and wild hair.


	18. Couldn't Get Me Away

**All I Need To Get By**

Chapter Sixteen: Couldn't Get Me Away

"Dr Malfoy, _no_!" bellowed the nuse standing at the other end of Hermione Granger's bed, "What if it's _contagious_?"

"_If_ it's contagious," the blonde answered most scathingly, "I would have caught it by now."

The nurse, a mousey Hufflepuff with a tiny nose, sighed despairingly, and waved her hand in awknowledgement of his point. The two medical personal were standing at opposite ends of the white linen covered bed, arguing loudly. Draco Malfoy held his five week old baby in his arms, as she smiled and waved happily at the sunlight streaming through the windows. The nurse was trying to brandish a clipboard menacingly, and failing because of the look of pity spreading across her face.

"What do you think, boo-boo?" Draco held his daughter up to his face and blew a raspberry at her nose, "Save mummy, or don't save mummy? A difficult choice, eh?"

"That baby can not speak yet," Narcissa Malfoy, regally sitting in a large chair in the window, "and, honestly, save the sarcasm. You," she gestured towards the nurse, "leave us."

"I'm not leaving until Dr Malfoy promises not to put that baby anywhere near Miss Granger."

"Yes, yes, he promises," Narcissa waved the nurse out of the room, and turned to her son.

He was standing over her, looming rather menacingly until she poked him in the arm and took the baby deftly from his grasping arms.

"I didn't say anything about not doing this," she reminded him sagely, "I think that Gryffindor's been addling your brains, Draco."

With Draco hovering anxiously about the pair of females, Narcissa planted a kiss on the baby's head and moved over towards the bed. Very carefully she placed the baby in Hermione's arms, arranging her so that she held the little girl securely. 'Boo-boo' chuckled to herself, and smiled at her grandmother and father.

"What if this hurts Baby?" Draco asked anxiously, backing away from the bed, eyes fixated on his daughter.

Narcissa sighed and grasped his upper arm, steering him towards the bed. Automatically Draco reached his hands out for her heart, hesitated, and placed them firmly over her skin. Narcissa deftly moved the tiny baby's hands onto her mother's bare skin, and finally placed her own on the girl's face.

"Do it, Draco," she snapped, and he began to whisper.

The six hands began to glow a ghostly blue, and with a wrench, they tore them away before their magical powers were drained. The result was almost instantaneous. Hermione's breathing quickened until she was almost panting and she thrust her upper body up, seeking the healing magic all Malfoys pocessed. Dropping back down to the bed, her arms closed tightly around her daughter's plump body and she shuddered. Her eyes blinked twice, and then opened blearily.

"Dr Malfoy!" came a shriek from outside the room as the nurse tore into the room, feeling the magical energy, "I thought I asked you not to do that!"

"Draco?" Hermione whispered, and tears dropped from her eyes onto her pillow.

Draco Malfoy felt as if he was about to levitate, but cried instead, dropping to his knees by the edge of the bed and desperately kissing her face.

"Good gracious Merlin," cursed the nurse softly, and Narcissa turned on her.

"Do go away, you frightful girl. It's all alright."

"Yes m'am," whinged the girl, and slunk away as Hermione lifted the baby up to her face and gazed at her seriously.

The beautiful litle girl regarded her seriously, and then, suddenly, smiled like a rainbow across a dismal sky. Hermione crushed the baby to her chest, and started cring earnestly, rolling over to face Draco and meeting his lips with her. Their kiss was like their first; desperate and assuming, loving with a gentleness that surprised Narcissa. Their lips danced carefully, tongues strokuing and caressing.

"I thought you were dead," Draco whispered finally, gathering his tiny family into his arms.

"I could never leave you," she said very softly back, breath tickling his neck, "you could never get me away from you."

"This is our daughter," Draco said moments later, slightly breathlessly with swollen lips.

"I know," Hermione replied, kissing the dimpled fist held up to her, "Gabrielle Narcissa. Mummy's here now."

Narcissa gave Draco a very satisfied look over the top of Hermione's head, and nodded emphatically. The Healer laughed a litle hysterically, and went back to kissing the Unspeakable he loved. The door burst open quite suddenly, and Healer Nott stormed in, robes whirling around him.

"What?" he bellowed, "What?"

"Shut up you odious man," Narcissa pushed him out of the door, and shut it firmly behind her back, whereupon she gave the slytherin a piece of her mind her would never forget, and would make him a much pleasanter person in the furture.

Gabrielle Narcissa wailed loudly and briefly, a warning shout to her parents, who seemed to have forgotten their precious bundle while their mouths ground together. Hermione broke the kiss off and smiled at Draco and Gabrielle.

"An angel, a goddess and a dragon," she mused softly, "and a love that is never Unspeakable."

Their lips touched again briefly, and Gabrielle smiled again from her warm place nestled between them.

"Hermione," Draco said softly, accompanied by the dulcent tones of his mother's screaming, "I do love you very much you know."

"I know."

"I think we should ask mother to come and live with us."

Hermione gave a quick glance to the reverberating door, and then gave an incredulous look to Draco. Seizing her daughter firmly to her chest, she looked at him seriously and said: "Not until you ask me to marry you."

Apology section:

Good morning/afternoon/evening to yu. I have to apologise for the huge delay between this posting and the last. I have been very busy, and it's been difficult to finish this off to my satisfication. However, on a more positive note, I am thinking of a more humorous sequel. Who knows if that will happen…

Apologies also for any spelling mistakes.

Thankyou to everyone who reviewed, especially ckrfan, who reviewed me yesterday and reminded me about getting this done indirectly. Also, special thanks to the regular reviewers who have contributed so much to this fiction.


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